


I Carry Your Heart With Me

by padfootlestrange



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootlestrange/pseuds/padfootlestrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A battered and bruised Iowa farm boy and a seemingly insane aviophobic doctor find themselves rooming together at Starfleet Academy.  Neither of them expected this to result in anything other than casual friendship...but the relationship that unfolds over the course of the school year may surprise them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, two men bonded over a shared flask on a shuttle full of new recruits headed for Starfleet Academy. Both were unkempt and unprepared, and both were enrolling in the Academy as a result of circumstance rather than true ambition.  

Being, as they were, surrounded by prim and proper drones in Academy uniforms, their friendship was inevitable – they were the only two who didn't belong.  A battered and bruised Iowa farm boy and a seemingly insane aviophobic doctor, both with an apparent disregard for propriety.  

With the doctor on board, Jim felt slightly more at ease among the cookie-cutter cadets who were shooting him dirty glances, namely the men who had bashed his face up the previous evening, and save for the woman, Uhura, who seemed charmed, if not exasperated by him.  

Jim had been thriving on chaos and disorder for as long a he could remember – hell, he had literally been born into it – so something about the doctor's raucous entrance piqued Jim's interest and made him think that perhaps they would get along.  When the newcomer sat down by Jim, ranting and raving about the dangers of flying, and proceeding to bare his soul by explaining that he was only there because of a messy divorce which had left him nowhere else to go – in his own words, “all I got left is my bones,” –  Jim felt almost immediate kinship.  The doctor must have felt the same, because he certainly didn't seem like someone who would offer his flask to just anybody.  Feeling honored, Jim accepted and introduced himself.  

“Jim Kirk.”

“McCoy.  Leonard McCoy.”

And that was the beginning of everything.

\--

The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, with the occasional shudder and grimace from McCoy, who muttered something every now and then about solar flares or bleeding eyeballs.  

Upon landing, all of the shuttle passengers were whisked away to different areas to take their entry exams, sign papers, talk to recruiters and other Academy personnel, and work out all the kinks in their applications.  After taking some tests in various subjects, Jim was shuffled from office to office to talk to at least twenty different admissions officials, who all eyed the cuts on his face and seemed dubious as to the fact that Pike had really given his seal of approval on Jim's admission to the Academy.  

Sitting in a chair in some office while the final set of his paperwork was being reviewed, Jim let his eyes wander out the window to the beautiful campus – and to the beautiful women walking by.  A blonde caught his eye and smiled flirtatiously.  He winked in response, and then snapped his attention back to the intimidating and official looking man who was in charge of his papers.  

“When did you decide you wanted to attend Starfleet, son?” asked the man, peering over the top of the stack of papers from his vantage point in a large and ominous leather chair across his large and ominous desk.

“Um...depends on how you look at it, I guess.  The idea was planted in my head last night, but I wasn't sure about it until this morning,”  Jim answered with a breezy smile.  He was the air of nonchalance, slouched in his seat with arms folded behind his head, not a care in the world about first impressions.  In Jim's mind, everyone liked him already, so there was no need for formalities.  He lived by the philosophy _if you believe that everyone likes you, they will_.  It worked about nintey percent of the time.

The man gave him a look that said _I hope you're joking_ , and sighed.  “Well, you have a letter of recommendation from Captain Pike, so there's really no denying you.  And all of your test scores look good.  The only thing left to discuss is where you're planning to live while you attend the Academy.  We have dormitories, but they're expensive.  Of course there's more affordable housing in town, but commuting can be a struggle what with all the traffic...”

“Dorms'll be fine, sir.  I'll get a job at a bar or something to pay for it.”

The man pursed his lips in a disapproving manner at Kirk's easy confidence, but didn't press the matter.  

“If you're sure, I'll assign you a dorm right now.  To be matched up with a roommate you'll need to complete a short personality quiz, after which the computer will take your answers and match them as closely as possible with another student's answers, and then you and your roommate will be randomly assigned a complex and room number.”  

The man handed him a PADD and told him to enter his student identification number, which Jim had to search for within his stack of paperwork.  He then clicked a button that said “MyPerfectRoommate Personality Test.”  

_This could not be any stupider_ , Jim thought.  He didn't need to take a fucking personality test.  Hell, he could get along with anybody – unless they picked a fight with him first.

He proceeded to answer a fifty question multiple choice test, with dumb ass questions such as:

“Are you a night owl or an early bird?”

“Do you drink?”

“Do you smoke?”

“Would you describe yourself as neat or messy?”

and even,

“Do you snore?”

Jim rushed through the questions, answering as best he could, and handed the PADD back to the man, who swiftly entered his data into a computer and printed the results.

“Here you go, Mr. Kirk.  Looks like you're in complex A, room 511, which is on the fifth floor. Your roommate is a medical student named Leonard McCoy.”

Jim perked up at that.  The crazy man from the shuttle was going to be his roommate?  He could live with that.  Doctor McCoy had been the most tolerable person he'd met all day, divorced aviophobe or not.  Every other person in this place seemed to have a stick up their ass for no good reason.

Jim gave his thanks and took his paperwork, and the man also handed him a neatly folded Starfleet Academy uniform and a map of the campus.

“Your father was a good man, Jim Kirk.  I hope you do him proud,” were the man's parting words.

Jim headed out the door of the office, examining the map to determine how to find his new living quarters.  He stood in the middle of a vast courtyard where red-clad students were lounging, reading books or talking to each other.  The campus was enormous, at least ten times as big as his high school, and he'd never been very good with maps.  After he'd been walking for a few minutes, map in hand, he heard a voice behind him.

“You're holding that map upside down, kid.”

Jim whipped his head around to see his new roommate, McCoy, coming out of a building that said "Starfleet Cafeteria" with a large coffee in hand.  McCoy already had his Academy uniform on, and looked significantly more at ease than the last time Jim had seen him, although he still looked tired and in need of a shave.  It suited him, though.  

“Hey, doctor!  So, it's you and me, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” McCoy replied with a wry smile, before continuing, “You're a borderline alcoholic and an insomniac as well, then?”

“What? Oh, that fucking personality test?  I'm not an alcoholic, I mean, I don't think...”

“Nevermind, Jim,” he laughed, “Let me show you our dorm.”

He motioned Jim to follow him, setting off in the direction of the undergraduate dorms with long, slow strides reminiscent of the long, slow sentences of his drawling Southern accent.  Jim hurried to catch up, and then fell into step with his new acquaintance.

“Beautiful campus,” Jim remarked, looking around.

The buildings were somehow both modern and archaic, and each was at least eight stories high.  The admission process had taken so long that it was nearing evening now, and as the sun set it glistened off of the sleek buildings.  Meticulous landscaping and intricate architecture gave the whole place a breathtaking quality.  Jim wondered if he would ever belong here; he was like a stray puppy who wasn't supposed to be on the neighbors lawn, but was somehow accepted there anyway.

McCoy chuckled at Jim's evident awe.  “Yeah, it's somethin', isn't it?” and then under his breath, “What the fuck am I doin' here, I wonder...” followed by a swig from his coffee cup, which Jim wondered if he had spiked with some of the contents of his flask.

They walked for ages, or so it seemed, before McCoy stopped and Jim realized that they had reached their dormitories.  The buildings were tall, like the others, with pillars and a sleek black stone exterior. There was a matching stone archway leading to the dorms, upon which "Undergraduate Residence" was engraved, and beneath that, "Ex Astris, Scientia."  From the stars, knowledge.

They crossed through the archway and went down a small winding path to find complex A.  To enter the building they had to swipe their fingerprints, which had apparently been recorded and entered into the system during their admission meetings that morning, on a touch screen embedded on the front door.  Once they were inside, McCoy led them into the elevator and pressed the number for floor five.

“You gonna be okay on the fifth floor, McCoy?” Jim asked with a cheeky grin, “if I recall correctly, you like to stay put on the ground.”

McCoy rolled his eyes and smirked, “It's aviophobia, smartass.  Fear of flying in particular, not heights in general.  And I damned well better get over it by the time we graduate.”

“Oh, I'm sure you will,” said Jim confidently.  “I can help with it, too.  On weekends we can take the shuttle places just so you can get used to it.”

“We're not even moved in together yet, kid, so don't get ahead of yourself by planning our weekends for the next nine months.  And I'm the doctor here, remember, so if anyone's gonna cure me of my phobia it'll be me.”

His tone was gruff but he was smiling, charmed by his new friend's eagerness.

They arrived on the fifth floor and made it to room 511, where they again had to swipe their fingerprints to enter.  Automatic steel doors, like you would find on a starship, opened to reveal their new living quarters.  Inside, the room was small but respectable.  There was one large window with flowing curtains, beneath which was a simple bed with navy blue bedding.  On the opposite wall was another identical bed.  Each bed had a nightstand with a lamp.  On the other side of the room were two small desks with chairs, and in the corner was a very small kitchen and a tiny two-person kitchen table set.  A door next to the kitchenette appeared to be the bathroom, and upon closer inspection contained a very cramped shower, a toilet and a sink.  No nonsense, simple and effective.

The doctor had already unpacked, but there wasn't much evidence of it.  Jim noticed a PADD, a stethoscope, a first aid kit, and an army style backpack on one of the desks, and a bottle of bourbon on the counter.  He was reminded again of what the doctor had said earlier on the shuttle: _all I got left is my bones._

“Not quite as exquisite as the rest of the campus, but it'll do quite nicely, huh Jim?” McCoy remarked, setting his coffee down on the table.  “I've already put some of my things in the closet, but I left room for you to do the same...” he opened a small door to reveal a modest collection of flannel and denim along with a few doctor's scrubs on hangers. 

“Which bed do you want?  Wall or window?” McCoy inquired.

“Window, if you don't mind,” Jim answered, walking over and opening it for some fresh air and to get a look at the view.

“Well, here we are,” sighed McCoy, plopping down on his bed by the wall.  

“Here we _are_ ,” mused Jim, sitting down on his bed and watching another group of pretty young cadets chatting on benches in the courtyard below.

“I'm beat,” McCoy expressed, closing his eyes letting his arms fall to his sides.

They stayed in silence for a while, McCoy lounging on his bed and Kirk staring down at the campus which would be his home for the next 3 years.  There were still 2 weeks until Fall term actually started, which was just enough time for them to get settled into their new lives at the academy, and to become better acquainted with each other, before classes and homework and responsibilities consumed them.  

Jim glanced back at McCoy after a time, and realized that he was actually dosing off.  The crippling fear that McCoy had experienced on the flight, followed by the entry exams and the hours of paperwork in the admission offices, were enough to tire anybody out, Jim supposed.

“Hey, you didn't answer yes to the snoring question on that quiz did you?”  Jim smirked.

“Of course not...” McCoy grumbled, rolling over and shortly thereafter losing the battle with consciousness, still fully dressed with shoes and all.

But he did snore, soft little sounds that Jim didn't mind enough to mention.  He just smiled and watched his new friend doze off for a moment before his stomach growled, reminding him that he had not had time to eat much of anything that day.  Deciding that he should leave in search of nourishment, and maybe find something to bring back for McCoy to eat when he woke, Jim rose and stretched.    He walked over to the doctor's bed, removed the other man's shoes, and found a spare sheet in the closet to lay over him, since it did not seem feasible to get McCoy under his own covers without waking him.  Perhaps it was an odd thing to do, one grown man tucking another into bed, especially on the day of their first meeting.  But for some reason it seemed right, and somehow knew already that this living situation was going to work out well.  McCoy continued snoring and burrowed deeper into the bed, and Jim exited and closed the dormitory door behind him.

\--

Settling into life at the Academy was a fairly easy transition for Jim and McCoy.  Since Jim had been out of school for almost 4 years, he did have some initial problems staying disciplined with his homework, but his teachers all loved him, and somehow he was getting A's on everything he turned in, much to his roommate's annoyance.  He especially excelled at Survival Strategies and Hand-to-Hand Combat, and loved his Leadership courses.  Jim had decided early on that he would go for the command track, because he couldn't see himself taking orders from anyone else in any kind of long term career situation.  It was ridiculous enough that he was enrolled in the Academy in the first place, so he figured he might as well shoot for the stars and try to achieve the title of “Captain” someday.

True to his words, Jim got a job bartending at a place called the “Lion Pub” in San Francisco to pay for his room and board.  It was just a few hours a week, but the pay was decent and it gave him lots of opportunities to flirt with women and earn tips in the process.  Most nights, a female customer would ask when his shift ended and invite him back to her place, to which he would eagerly comply.  He had only brought one girl back to his own dorm so far, because when McCoy got home after a late night shift at the clinic to find Jim passed out in bed and an unfamiliar violet-skinned girl in the shower, he made it clear that this was never to happen again.  Jim had awoken the next morning to find not his lover from the previous night, who had evidently already been chased off, but McCoy, sitting on his bed by the wall and glaring daggers across the room at him.

“What you do with your plethora of female admirers is your business, Jim, but God forbid I ever have to come home – after I've already had a helluva night dealing with mononucleosis and STD's and dumb hypochondriacs at the clinic, mind you – to some naked alien in my fucking shower again.  So either keep it in your pants or do it somewhere else, because if I have to clean up bodily fluids from any surface in this room ever again, I will transfer to a different dorm.”  Jim hadn't the heart to argue with him, especially given all that he'd learned about his roommate since they'd been living together.  

By the time a month had passed since their first meeting, Jim felt that he had known McCoy forever.  The older man was rough around the edges, but he had a raw quality about him, open and honest, that allowed Jim to quickly piece together an understanding of his past and personal life, his flaws and quirks, his fears and worries.

What Jim had learned so far was that McCoy had left his hometown in Georgia to attended the University of Mississippi about a decade ago, where he received his pre-med degree.  There he had met his (now ex) wife, Jocelyn, who became pregnant during their senior year.  Their daughter, Joanna, was born the summer before McCoy started med school.  Jocelyn insisted that they get married, although they were already having problems, and McCoy complied, feeling a sense of responsibility to his new family.  Despite the new challenges that came with the territory of being a husband and father, he followed through with his plan to attend medical school, and when he graduated, he got a steady but exhausting job doing the graveyard shift at a hospital back in Georgia, where they moved their family.  He and Jocelyn tried to make it work for two more years after that, but they fought constantly, and he was always working, and eventually she broke down and told him that she wanted a divorce and, on top of that, that she had been having affairs for the better part of their marriage.  Oh, and she presented McCoy as a raging alcoholic to the court during their custody battle, granting him very limited visitation rights to Joanna.   _What a lovely woman_ , Jim thought.  

These details had slipped out, slowly but surely, over the last few weeks, and Jim now knew why McCoy was the surliest twenty-eight year old he had ever met.  The last decade of his life had aged him at least threefold, emotionally speaking.  With this in mind, Jim decided that the least he could do was to adhere to his friend's wishes and not bring women around the dorm anymore.  It just meant that he would be sleeping in beds other than his own at least two nights out of every week, that was all.  

McCoy may have had a rocky couple of years, but he was starting over now, or so he said.  The day he signed the last of the divorce papers was the day he decided to enlist in Starfleet and leave his old life behind, taking practically nothing with him.  McCoy always described it with the same phrase, “all I got left is my bones,” so Jim started calling him “Bones” as an endearing nickname, because “Leonard” didn't fit at all, and calling his friend by his last name seemed oddly formal at that point.

Bones' honesty gave Jim a sense of trust, allowing him to open up to his roommate about his own life, although he was more guarded.  Jim wasn't at all comfortable talking about his early life, preferring to stick with the facade of _James Kirk, always confident, always happy, never troubled_.  If he acted like there were no demons in his closet, he could convince himself that there weren't.

However, he sometimes found himself spilling secrets to Bones late at night, unable to help himself.  They were usually at least a little bit drunk when these conversations took place, and besides that, Bones just had this _way_ of making Jim say things without thinking.  

For instance, Bones got home late one night from the clinic, talking about some kid he had just patched up who had been on the losing end of a nasty bar fight.  No matter how late they got home, Jim and Bones repeated the same routine every night (save for the nights Jim went home with women from the bar).  Bones would get home, shower, and pour them each a glass of something strong, and they'd sit on their respective beds and recount the day's events.

“This kid clearly had no idea how to throw a punch – or block one, which is more important, really,”  Bones grumbled about the kid who had kept him late at the clinic.  “I swear to God, if the students here had even a _basic_ understanding of self defense, my hours at the clinic would be cut in half.”

“Hand-to-hand combat is a required course, though, so why aren't they more knowledgeable?” Jim wondered.

“It's only a requirement for Juniors and Seniors, I guess. It's the underclassmen who come to the clinic in the worst shape.  You're doing the smart thing by taking it your Freshman year, I tell ya.”

“Yeah, I've known how to block a punch since I was ten or eleven, though.” Jim took a long drink, and when he looked back up, Bones was watching him intently and quizzically.  Jim hadn't thought that his sentence had given much away – kids get into fights at school all the time, and refining technique is part of the process.  Bones seemed to have seen right through him, though.

Jim set his drink down on the nightstand and rubbed the nape of his neck, looking down.  “I, uh...my mother worked off-planet a lot when I was a kid, and after she remarried, we stayed with our step-dad, Frank, while she was gone.  Months at a time, usually.  He was totally nice to my brother and I when mom was there, but as soon as she left, he treated us like fucking shit.”   _Jesus_.  He was saying way too much.  It was like he couldn't control his mouth.

“He hit you,” Bones frowned.  It wasn't a question.

“Hit, shoved, kicked, you name it,” Jim laughed awkwardly, although it wasn't funny.  “So, uh, my brother and I started teaching ourselves self-defense in the fields behind the house while he was at work.  We'd practice blocking punches from each other, getting out of a choke-hold, that kind of stuff.  He didn't stop trying to hurt us, but we did get better at dodging his attempts.”

His brain was screaming _too much information_ , but now that he'd started, he couldn't stop.  He thought of all the things Bones had told him, which made him feel like he owed his friend more stories, more secrets.  He kept rambling.

“Once, when I was fifteen, I couldn't get out of the way fast enough. He gave me a concussion and made me tell everyone that I had been climbing in the rafters in the barn and had fallen.  The whole stupid thing was because I had forgotten to put the chickens in their pen the night before, and one of them had been eaten by a coyote.

The year I turned seventeen, I had finally grown taller than him, and stronger, too.  I punched him back one night when he was being especially violent, and he couldn't see out of one eye for a week.  That was the last time he hit me.  The year after that, when I turned eighteen, I was out the door before he could blink.”

Bones was quiet for a long moment, and then said simply, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.  I'm a million miles away from him now.”

“Still,” Bones cleared his throat, “I'm just – I'm so sorry, Jim.  No child deserves that.  I can't imagine Jocelyn remarrying, putting Joanna in a similar situation, and me having no control over it.”

“Thanks,” Jim replied, genuinely.  “So, yeah.  I'm pretty good at self-defense.  I've still managed to get into some nasty bar fights, and to come out on the losing end of them occasionally.  That's why I was all cut up the day I met you, actually.  Being drunk at the time of the fight probably doesn't help my reflexes...”  

“I was wondering,” Bones smiled wryly.  “You seem to have quite an impulsive streak.  Growing up in an abusive household _would_ give way to some violent behavior, especially in the late teens.  It's really not surprising that you would seek out danger.”

Great, Bones was going all psychologist on him.  Somehow, he didn't mind.  The way Bones said it wasn't judgmental, it was just...understanding.

“Yeah, I guess so...can't afford to be reckless anymore though, not now that I'm working at a bar.  Getting into a brawl with a customer would be a surefire way to get fired.”

After that, he changed the subject, and they continued drinking and chatting late into the night, until sentences were left unfinished and eyelids were heavy and, finally, they crawled into bed and turned off their bedside lamps.

As Jim drifted, he thought about how TV and movies and things always portrayed life with a roommate as miserable, and how the people always drove each other to insanity with their obnoxious habits.  Admittedly, Bones was a little uptight, and he could be intense, and moody, and tiresome.  But he was someone to talk to, someone real – not some shallow girl from the pub, or a dumb jock from his combat class.  Bones always said what he thought, never pretended to have a certain opinion just to please someone.  He was the most real person Jim had ever met, and that's why coming back to the dorm each night to talk to him was like coming home.  A home he'd never had.  A home he could stay in for a long while.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim drags McCoy to the bar with him, where McCoy has some unsettling thoughts.

“Come to the bar with me,” Jim said one night as he got dressed to go to work.

McCoy was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, with a towel around his waist.  He'd just showered after getting home from his last class of the day, and as he had the rare night off from clinic duty, he was looking forward to a quiet night in.  He spat toothpaste into the sink and opened the bathroom door.

“Is that a request or a demand?” he asked.

“ _Booones_.  You've got the night off.  You need to come out, have fun, be young.  Find yourself a girl.”

“Ha,” McCoy replied, taking a swig of water and rinsing his mouth out.

“Bones.   _Bones_.  When's the last time you got laid?”

“I've only been divorced for two months, Jim.”

“ _Two months_?  Do you know how many girls I've slept with in the last two months?”

“No, thank god.  I only know about the dreaded purple woman I found in my shower that night.”

“Come on.  Take me seriously.”

McCoy sighed and looked at his reflection in the mirror.  It was easy for Jim, being twenty-two with golden hair and bright eyes and just undeniably _handsome_ features.  He was in great shape, of course, from all of his physical classes.  Not to mention that Jim just knew how to act with women, knew the right things to say and the right times to laugh, and all of that.  

McCoy examined his own features.  Eyes: dull, brown, tired.  Too many lines.  Eyebrows that couldn't stop knitting themselves together in a permanently stressed-out expression.  Face: short and weirdly shaped.  Lines on his forehead.  Five o’clock shadow that appeared practically minutes after shaving.  Body: _Ugh_.  He didn't even want to look down.

“I don't think so, Jim,” he answered finally, “It's been a long time since I've been actively dating.  I don't imagine anyone would want me right now.”

“Bones, you're way too young to be this jaded,” Jim sounded exasperated.  McCoy peered out of the bathroom door to see Jim pulling on a black t-shirt to pair with his well-fitting dark wash Levi's.   _Effortlessly gorgeous.  That little shit._

“You don't need age to become jaded.  Just experience,” McCoy replied.

“Poetic.  Now get out of there, get dressed, and come with me.  You don't have to talk to any women if you really don't want to.  I'll make you any drink you want.”

McCoy could feel his defenses breaking.

“I don't have anything to wear.”

Jim smiled.  He knew he was winning.  

He walked over to the bathroom door and handed McCoy a stack of clothes.  McCoy took them and set them on the bathroom counter to examine them.  Another nice pair of Levi's, a simple gray t-shirt, and a sleek, lightweight black jacket.  

“Jim, these clothes are yours.  They definitely won't fit.”

“Well, you said you didn't have anything to wear.  Wear these.  They'll look good, I'm sure of it.”

“Bring me a pair of underwear, at least.  A pair of my _own_ underwear.”

“Why would I give you a pair of my underwear?” Jim laughed, opening a drawer and rifling through the soft fabric.  He found a pair of black boxer-briefs with no holes in them, and tossed them at McCoy.  Friendship was having another man rifle through your underwear drawer and not feeling weird about it, McCoy thought.

“I don't know, you're sharing everything else,” McCoy rolled his eyes as he caught the garment in his hands.

Jim waited on his bed while McCoy finished dressing himself.  The clothes did fit, and when he opened the bathroom door, Jim wolf-whistled.

“You know, there's this super hot Orion chick who works at the bar, I could totally set you – ”

“Jim, _no!_ ”  McCoy picked a pillow up off of his bed and threw it at him.  They were both laughing.

\--

They walked to the campus transit station and boarded a bus that took them into the Pacific Heights district, which was a short ride.  They arrived at the Lion Pub and Jim went into the back room to clock in, while McCoy took a seat at the bar.

The pub had warm lighting and a fireplace on one side of the room, beautiful hardwood counters, and lots of tables filled with lively customers.  Twinkling strings of lights were hanging along the walls, which reflected and glinted off of the towers of drinking glasses stacked behind the bar.  The room was filled with lion related decor, including but not limited to a brass lion head hanging from one of the stone walls, a stained-glass image of a lion on one of the windowpanes, and a life-sized lion statue, complete with a saddle for riding.  There were plants all around the room, giant leafy things in hanging baskets or in flowerpots in corners.  The room gave off an almost jungle-ish vibe, which should have been cheesy, but it had a nice ambiance; McCoy could see why Jim enjoyed working here.

While he waited for Jim, McCoy picked up a menu.  There was not a single normal looking drink on it. _What the fuck is a Koo Koo Cream?_ he wondered.

Jim arrived at the counter wearing a black apron with an illustration of a lion on it.  He looked good, so confident and at ease behind the bar.  Always so confident.  He flashed McCoy a smile.  

“Hey, man, did you see anything you want to order?”

“I'm starving.  Do you guys have, like, a burger or something?  As for the drink, surprise me.”

“I'm sure I can find you a burger.”  He called in an order to the kitchen, and then walked over to the stack of  glasses behind him and took one.  He bit his lip and tapped his chin, thinking.

“A lot of the stuff we serve here is probably too girly.  Peach Margarita, no.  Koo Koo Cream, definitely not.  We use fresh fruit and we squeeze it ourselves, which is really rare, so it'd be a pity not to serve you something that showcased that...I just need to think of the right thing... _Aha, got it_.”  His face lit up and McCoy smirked.

“Should I be scared?”

“No, no.  Just watch.  You're going to like it.”

Jim took a shaker and started pouring in liquids from an assortment of bottles.  He squeezed in the juices from a whole lemon and a whole lime, and then cracked an egg against the bar, separating it and expertly dropping only the white into the mixture.  He shook it up and then strained the mixture into the glass, finishing it with 2 dashes of Angostura bitters.

“Pisco Sour, Dr. McCoy,” Jim handed him the glass, which contained a cool, pale green liquid with a layer of frothy foam that rose to the top.  McCoy took a sip.  It was good.  Strong, citrusy, and not too sweet.  Perfect.

“You know me well, Jim,” McCoy smiled, raising his glass.  Jim winked and slapped him on the back affectionately from across the bar, and then moved on to take orders from his other customers.  McCoy's burger arrived shortly after, which was delicious as well.  As he ate, he took in his surroundings, particularly fascinated by the dynamic between the bartenders and the customers.

Jim was as suave and flirtatious with the female patrons as McCoy would have expected.  There were three women sitting at the far end of the bar, giggling and engaging Jim in playful banter.  He mixed them up all kinds of fancy drinks, and they tipped so generously that you would have thought he was giving them a strip tease.  They probably memorized his shift, McCoy thought.  Jim's own personal groupies.

A girl behind the bar with a name tag that read “Gaila,” whose green skin and curly red hair indicated that she was the Orion who Jim had wanted to set him up with, was also generating a lot of business.  She had the eyes of every male patron sitting at the bar fixed on her, and even McCoy had a bit of trouble looking away as she tossed glasses above her head, which spun circles in the air and then landed right back in her hands, never breaking.  It was like magic.  She mixed exotic drinks with a swift, practiced hand, and McCoy had no doubt that several of the men at the bar were thinking about what else her hands might be capable of.

McCoy knew that the attention this woman was attracting was not entirely a result of talent, or even beauty.  Orion females had extremely potent pheromones, which raised adrenaline, aggression and delusion in males.  Most men simply fell victim to seduction and became out of their minds with want.  

He felt bad for the girl, in a way.  Some of the men were acting completely idiotic, shouting obscenities and wolf-whistling at her.  If it wasn't for the counter that separated her from them, he was sure they would be trying to grope her.  It wasn't her fault that her unique physiology reduced men to blubbering, primal oafs.  However, he thought, noticing the pockets of her apron bulging with cash, she seemed to work her “gift” to her advantage.  

Between Jim and Gaila, The Lion Pub was in no immediate danger of financial problems.  As the night wore on, the place only grew more packed.  McCoy finished his food and drink and ordered a bourbon, and another after that.  The drink Jim brought him was very good, but he was a traditionalist at heart.  He sat at the bar as the hours passed, a quiet observer among the chaos.  Sometimes crowds were nice because they allowed him to disappear, to retract into the solace of his mind and simply take in his surroundings without being an active participant in them.  Jim, however, seemed to realize that this was his friend's strategy, and he wasn't having any of it.  When he finally got a free moment when none of his female admirers were asking him for something, Jim made his way over to McCoy's end of the bar, looking exasperated and raising his voice over the din of the crowd.

“Dude, look, I know I said you didn't have to flirt with any women, but you haven't left that seat since we got here.  You haven't talked, nodded, or smiled at _anyone_.  There's a table of Cadets from the medical track over there, and I'm sure you know them.”

“I don't know them well, and I'm not in the mood for small talk.”  He was never in the mood for small talk, actually.  He was blunt and to the point, usually too much so for other people's tastes.

“If I had known you really wouldn't enjoy yourself, I wouldn't have brought you here.”

“I _am_ enjoying myself, Jim.  I'm enjoying my solicitude.”

“Make some friends!  Jesus, it's depressing to look at you sitting here all by yourself.”

“Why do I need to make friends?  You're my friend, aren't you?”

“I'm your _only_ friend.  If I'm the only person you ever socialize with, you're going to go insane.  Well, more insane.   _I'd_ get sick of hanging out with me, after a while.”

“I'll never get sick of you, Jim.”   _Fuck, maybe the third bourbon was a bad idea._

Jim let out a loud laugh.  “Okay, great, you're a sappy drunk.  Slow down a little, my shift doesn't end until two and I don't want to have to drag your sorry bones home on the bus later.”  Jim chuckled at his own pun.

“I'm not drunk,” he grumbled, even though he was a little bit.  “I'm just not a very social person, Jim, you know that.  I just like hanging out with you because you're...” _Different.  Special.  Amazing_.  “...you're you, and you get me, and you put up with me.  Not everyone will.  Trust me.”

Jim shook his head.  “I don't buy it, but okay, whatever.  I don't know why anyone wouldn't like you, but if you really prefer sitting here by yourself, go ahead.”

Jim walked off to help another customer, and McCoy was left feeling baffled.  Jim really didn't see it, did he?  Didn't see how other people saw McCoy: as “surly and nagging and horrible”.  That was actually a direct quote from his ex wife.  No – Jim, ever the optimist, saw McCoy as perfectly likeable.

Gaila, the Orion, walked over to McCoy and asked, “Can I get you anything else, babe?”

“Bourbon, please,”  he nodded at her.

“Sure thing,” she demurred, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  She was really beautiful, but somehow, McCoy wasn't as affected by her as he had been by other Orion women he had met in the past (those were some unbearably embarrassing one-night-stands from his first couple of years at U of M.  He tried to excuse them with the comfort of the fact that he not even twenty at the time).  He felt some mild stirrings of attraction for Gaila, but nothing more.  Maybe it was all the alcohol.

Gaila poured his drink and handed it to him, leaning unnecessarily on the counter and revealing a ridiculous amount of cleavage.  “Is there anything else you need?” she asked seductively.  Jim caught his eye and gave him a grin and a thumbs up.  “ _She's hot, right?!_ ” he mouthed.

 _Not as hot as you_ , McCoy thought.   _Fucking hell, what was wrong with him tonight?!_

He stopped after that drink, because he really didn't want Jim to have to drag him home.  He could hold his alcohol pretty well, but with the direction his thoughts were going, he wanted to avoid any further embarrassment.

When the bar closed at two, Jim and Gaila and a few other clientele wiped down the bar and started stacking chairs on tables while the last of the customers filed out the door.  McCoy stood, put his jacket on, and waited patiently for Jim by the door.

When Jim walked over, he had Gaila in tow.  “Gaila, I saw earlier that you had met my friend and roommate, Dr. Leonard H. McCoy.  Allow me to formally introduce you.”

McCoy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Jim, and smiled politely as Gaila giggled and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Likewise.”  It came out sounding gruffer than he had intended.  He turned to his friend.  “Ready to go, Jim?”

“Yep.”

They bid Gaila farewell and were on their way.  It was a cold, crisp evening in late October, and McCoy rubbed his hands together as they waited for their bus at the stop nearest to the pub.  He looked at Jim, still wearing just that black t-shirt.  

“Aren't you cold?” McCoy inquired.

“A little, but I gave you my good jacket,” he grinned.

“Dammit, Jim, what did you do that for?  I have my own clothes at the dorm, you know.”

“I know, but you weren't going to come unless you had something good to wear.  I was desperate to get you out of the house.”

It was silent for a few moments, and then McCoy spoke again.

“Why didn't you go home with one of those women?  You never come back to the dorm on work nights.”

Jim pondered.  “I don't know.  Maybe none of them caught my eye.  Maybe I just wanted to see you home safely.”

“I'm a doctor, Jim, I can take care of myself.”

“You had a lot to drink.”

“Quit nagging.  You sound like me.”  He was having trouble standing up straight, so he sat down on the bench inside the bus shelter and decided not to argue the state of his sobriety any further.

Jim sat down next to him and rested his head on his friend's shoulder.  McCoy wasn't a tactile person; Jim was.  He might have been bothered by the gesture if he had been more sober, but then again, it was Jim, so probably not.

They sat like that under the small shelter until their bus arrived, and Jim helped McCoy stand and get into his seat without stumbling.  The lights of San Francisco whizzed by in a colorful blur until they reached their campus, and Jim helped McCoy back to their dorm.

“That was a longer walk than I remembered,” McCoy was muttering as they swiped their fingerprints on the pad by the door.

“Everything takes longer when you're drunk.”

“'M not drunk,” he was still insisting. “Just tired.  Don't wake me up until at least noon tomorrow.”

“You're such a child.”

Jim saw his friend over to his bed, and made sure that he was safely tucked into it before getting into his own.  

“Night, Bones.”

“Night, Jim.”

They had reached such a strange co-dependency in their friendship.  McCoy was usually the more attentive one, but in situations where the doctor was out of his element, Jim came shining through.  McCoy had managed fine on his own for all those years – Hell, Jocelyn had never cared whether he came home from the bar safely – but it was still refreshing to be cared for.  As for the odd passing thoughts he'd had at the bar earlier, and his utter disinterest in Gaila, even when she had clearly been flirting with him...McCoy would have to contemplate that in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a need to clarify that my goal in writing this is not to have Bones being miserable and whiny all the time, but rather to illustrate (eventually) how he gets out of the bad place he's in now. Keep in mind that these first few chapters take place *just* after the divorce. That being said, if a little bit of angsty!Bones isn't your thing, feel free to read something else. There will be no hard feelings ;)
> 
> Thanks for checking out my fic!
> 
> P.S. The yelp page for the Lion Pub is here: http://www.yelp.com/biz/lion-pub-san-francisco, and there are some pictures that will help give you a visual sense of the bar where they'll be hanging out quite a bit :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laundry room seemed as good a place as any for heartfelt conversations.

When Jim awoke the next morning, Bones was still fast asleep.  He heeded his friend's request not to wake him before noon, but at eleven fifty-nine he was posed and ready.  He climbed onto the doctor's bed carefully, and as quietly as he was able he inched just close enough so that he could feel Bones' breath on his face, huffing out with each soft little snore.  When the clock on Bones' bedside table hit twelve, Jim yelled “BONES!!!” at the top of his lungs.

Bones threw his covers aside and sat up so fast you would think he was aiming for warp speed.  His arms flailed comically and he was shouting “Where's the fire?” over and over.  Jim laughed so hard he fell off the bed.

Bones just stared down at him, rolling on the floor hysterically, and collapsed back onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow.  There was a muffled exclamation of “Dammit, Jim!”

Jim got up off the floor and pulled the pillow off his friend's face.  Bones looked groggy and disgruntled, but Jim thought he also looked younger, somehow, or gentler.  Soft, warm, sleepy.  His hair was messy and he was still wearing Jim's t-shirt and jeans from the night before, which made him look less severe than when he was pouring over his homework in his academy uniform or fussing over patients at the clinic in his scrubs.  And his eyebrows didn't knit together as much as they would have if Jim had done something to annoy him when he was fully awake.

“Hungover?” Jim grinned down at him.

“Like you wouldn't believe, you little bastard.”

“Oh, I believe it.  I was there last night, remember? That's why I already made a pot of coffee, and some eggs and toast, if you can stomach anything...”

“Thanks, Jim...I think I'll just take a hot shower first, see if I can fight off this headache before I eat anything...”

“I put some Tylenol by your coffee mug, on the table.”

“I would say 'you're an angel,' but neither of us would believe it.”  He went into the bathroom and shut the door, and a few minutes later Jim heard water running.  He got up from Bones' bed and sat down at the table to eat his eggs and toast.  

The Academy was celebrating some sort of Federation holiday this week, which was why Bones had the previous night off from the clinic, and which meant that they had another day off from classes, which was good, because if Bones had had to be up early for his 10am Interspecies Ethics class that morning, he didn't think either of them would have survived.  Jim had no particular plans, so helping Bones to cure his hangover seemed as worthwhile an endeavor as any.  

Bones came out of the shower, towel around his waist, and went over to their closet to put on clean clothes.  “We need to do laundry soon,” he grumbled, pulling on worn jeans with a hole in the knee.  “I'm going to have to wear your shirt for another day, until I can wash some of mine.”

Jim glanced up as Bones pulled the wrinkled gray t-shirt over his head.  He wasn't trying to be weird, but he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of the other man's bare abdomen.  The jeans rode low on his hips, revealing sharp hip bones and a soft stomach with a trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband.  Bones was always humble and self deprecating when it came to his body, but Jim didn't know what he had to complain about; he wasn't in bad shape at all.  He didn't have super defined abs or anything, but he was all broad shoulders and strong build, like a shipyard worker.  Lots of upper body strength.  Jim was a little bit scrawnier in the shoulders; his t-shirt stretched tight across Bones' collar bone.  

“We can do some laundry today, if you're up for it.  We'll have to empty all the pockets of our dirty jeans in search of quarters, though.”

“You start on that, I'm gonna find that coffee and Tylenol you set out for me.”

An hour-and-a-half later, Bones said his headache was feeling a bit better, and he even shoveled down a few bites of egg.  Jim had a small collection of quarters in a plastic bag and a full laundry basket ready to go.

They got in the elevator in their building, which took them down to the basement, where the laundry room was located.  Thankfully, there was no one else there, which meant they wouldn't have to fight for the good washing machines.

Bones sat on one of the laundry tables, legs swinging and feet not quite touching the floor.  He was in charge of the bag of quarters, since he wasn't feeling well.  Jim did all of the work, and reached a hand out to his friend every time he needed another coin.  He was probably only there because he knew Jim enjoyed the company, which Jim appreciated.

When he had filled four washing machines with their multitude of laundry, Jim hopped up onto the laundry folding table next to his friend.  He nudged Bones, who was apparently deep in thought, with his shoulder.  “Whatcha thinkin' about?”

Bones snapped his attention up to his friend, and gave a small smile.  “Just last night.  I shouldn't have had so much to drink.  I feel bad that you had to take me home; I know you were probably looking forward to going home with one of your groupies.”

Jim tried to contain his eye-roll at the term 'groupies.'  “I didn't have to take you home.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.  I've slept with plenty of women, you know, I'm not desperate for a lay.  Not like I would think you would be.”

It was Bones' turn to roll his eyes.  “I'm not desperate either, believe it or not.  I'm not eighteen anymore, Jim, I can go more than a few months without.”

Jim mocked shock.  “Your libido is fading quickly!  Get yourself to the clinic and write yourself a prescription for some Viagra!  God, Bones, you always act like you're eighty instead of twenty-eight.”

“Hmph.” Bones grimaced.

“Gaila was interested, you know,” Jim continued.

“From what I saw, she acted the same way with everyone.  It's a good strategy for selling drinks and getting tips, but I don't think there's anything about me in particular that caught her eye.”

“There was, though.  She asked me to introduce her to you, you know, and that was after her shift had already ended, so it wasn't for the purpose of getting tips or anything.  She likes you, Bones.  You should really let me set you two up.”

“I don't know, Jim.  I just...I don't know.  The thought alone is...overwhelming, to say the least.”  Jim stuck out his bottom lip, pleading, so Bones sighed and added “Let me think about it, okay?”

Jim laughed.  “Okay, but people like Gaila aren't guaranteed to be on the market for ever.  If you wanna hit that, you should act quickly.”  He paused then, unsure if his next question was too personal.  It was hard to tell sometimes; Bones was gruff, guarded, but most of the time seemed to have no qualms about sharing the deepest, most personal details of his past with Jim.  He decided there was no harm in asking; Bones didn't have to answer if it made him uncomfortable.

“How long has it been, Bones?  I know you've been divorced for a few months, but you and Jocelyn had obviously been having problems before that...how long, since the last time you...?”

Bones was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands, which were clenched around the bag of coins in his lap.

“You don't have to answer.  I was worried that might be too personal to ask, I'm sorry...” Jim started to panic.

“No, no, it's okay.  Uh, look...it's been...it's been a while.  I'll tell you how long, but it's gonna sound like a lifetime to you, and you'll think I'm insane and wonder what's wrong with me and all of that but... ”

“Bones.  Stop.  I'm just genuinely curious, I'm not going to make fun of you or judge you or anything.

Bones nodded, glancing up to meet Jim's eyes and quickly looking back down at his lap.

“It's been over a year.”

Jim let out a low whistle.

“We worked opposite shifts, which made it hard to find any time alone,” Bones continued.  “That's what I told myself at first, anyway.  Then when we found time, and she just wasn't interested, I told myself she just had a really low sex drive.  Little did I know at the time, she was getting it other places.  Getting it anywhere she could.  Anywhere but from me.”

“Ouch,” Jim tried to sympathize, shaking his head.

Bones kept talking.  Once he started a story like this, he seemed unable to leave any sordid detail unsaid.  Jim didn't mind, for he was unsure how many other people Bones had to tell these things to.  Probably no one, he realized.  “I didn't feel jealous, really, of the other guys.   I didn't know them.  It may have been worse if I did, but they were just random men she met at work, or picked up at the grocery store, or whatever.  You always hear about people having affairs, and you think how jealous you'd be, if that happened to you, you know?”

Jim didn't know.  He'd never been in a relationship longer than a couple of weeks.  He nodded anyway.

“But the jealousy isn't really what makes it so awful.  It's the completely crushing feelings of  inadequacy.  It's crippling, Jim, you have no idea.  That I was so undesirable, so awful, that she wouldn't have me in that way, had to seek satisfaction somewhere else.  That I was such a poor provider, and a lousy father, that she had my custody restricted to just a few visits a year.  It's humiliating.”

Jim felt awful.  He always told Bones things like 'there's no reason anyone wouldn't want you,' but he saw now what Bones was basing all of his assumptions about humanity on.  One woman, in all of the world and the planets and the galaxies, should not have had the power to completely strip his friend of his self esteem like this.

Jim thought Bones was amazing.  He was strong, sure, steady and loyal.  His face always lit up when he talked about Joanna, and Jim couldn't imagine him being anything but a devoted and loving father, even if his role as a husband hadn't worked out so well.  He wished he knew how to articulate Bones' worth and make him believe it, but he couldn't figure out how, so he stayed quiet and let Bones rattle on.

“So, look.  Gaila seems nice and all but I just – I don't want to go through that again.  Ever.  If I were going to date anyone, or sleep with anyone, I'd need it to be exclusive.  Gaila is young and very, very popular with men, so like I said, I'll think about it, but I want you to know where I'm coming from and why I'm hesitant.”

Jim nodded this time.  “I understand.  I'll try not to push you.”

“Thank you.  Really.”

Jim imagined going into the clinic with Bones on Tuesday at lunch, searching the stacks of boxes full of drugs in the back room of the pharmacy, and finding a small vial labeled “Self-Esteem.”  He could dial up a hypo and inject it into his friend's veins, and then Bones would know how important he was, and Jim wouldn't have to figure out a way to tell him.  They should really get on inventing a drug like that, he thought.

Looking for some gesture to ease the tense silence, Jim kicked Bones' foot lightly with his own.  They were both wearing socks, since they didn't need to leave the complex in order to do their laundry and putting shoes on seemed pointless.  Bones nudged him back, and for some reason Jim twisted their ankles together so that their feet were overlapping in a strange sort of entanglement, like hand-holding but with feet.  Maybe it was weird, but it seemed like the thing to do.  He'd been thinking that about a lot of things since he'd met Bones.     

They sat in silence, and then both jumped when the buzzers went off to signal the end of the wash cycle for their laundry.  Bones handed him a stack of quarters, and Jim slid off the table to transfer the loads.

Bones was staring at him intently, and Jim felt like perhaps there was something left unsaid, but the earlier conversation had been awkward enough, so he didn't ask.  For Christ's sake, he'd asked his best friend when the last time he'd had sex was, and then they'd basically played footsies while sitting on a laundry table.  Bones didn't say anything else, so Jim finished their laundry in silence.

He had to figure out a way to get Bones' opinion of himself back up, Jim decided.  He had to set him up with someone, had to find a girl who could show Bones how great he was.  He wouldn't rest until he found the human equivalent of a self esteem injection.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short little one, but a necessary transition for the next chapter to work. Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was very hard to contemplate whatever feelings McCoy may or may not have when he spent practically every waking (and sleeping, for that matter) moment in Jim's company. So the first moment he got alone, he took advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a (breif) explicit scene, so best leave now if you're squimish.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos so far. Enjoy :)

What McCoy had told Jim in the laundry room had been true.  Because of Jocelyn's history with infidelity, he was more careful and hesitant than most when it came to relationships.  However, he really didn't think this was the explanation for his disinterest in Gaila.  In the case of dating, yes, of course he looked for loyalty and monogamy.  In the case of a one night stand, however, he was pretty sure that the old him wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to blow off a little steam, especially if a woman approached him, instead of having to be the one to make the first move, which was awkward and horrible and which he always failed at.  The other night, however, he had completely ignored Gaila's advances, and he couldn't explain why the Orion's pheromones, which had always attracted him and turned him on in the past, suddenly had little to no effect whatsoever.

He had wracked and wracked his brain for everything he'd ever read about Orion physiology in med school – it didn't seem that the alcohol in his system would have had any effect, nor the fact that he was getting older (some of the men fawning after Gaila in the bar had been in their fifties and sixties, after all).  The only explanation he could come up with was some sort of profound attraction for someone else in close proximity, providing a distraction great enough that it would prevent him from falling victim to the Orion's charm.

Jim was attractive, that much was obvious, and had always been obvious.  But he had never considered himself to be interested in Jim in that way before, nor any man for that matter.  But that night at the bar, he kept having odd thoughts that led him to become increasingly aware  of Jim's attractiveness, and his wonderfulness, and everything-ness...whatever it was that was now causing McCoy to lay awake each night, fretting and worrying and wishing these feelings away.  

The day in the laundry room, too, had contributed to his confusion.  He felt that something had shifted between him.  He'd poured his heart out to Jim before, but this time was different.  Jim's reaction was different, but he couldn't pinpoint it.  And Jim's physical affection, like what he had come to think of as 'the foot incident,' kept catching him off guard and sending him spiraling into a new series of sleepless nights.

It was very hard to contemplate whatever feelings he may or may not have when he spent practically every waking (and sleeping, for that matter) moment in Jim's company.  They had a class together and the same lunch period twice a week, and on the days when McCoy worked the twelve to four shift at the clinic, Jim would come visit and bring him lunch.  There was no escape, and now that Jim had gotten him to come to the Pub with him once, that would probably become a regular endeavor too.  His thoughts needed room to breathe.  

Sometimes they'd be sitting in their Starfleet History class, or eating lunch in the cafeteria or something, and McCoy would find himself staring at Jim.  He'd notice some stupid detail, like how Jim had these two adorable freckles near the corner of his left eye, or how he'd forgotten to shave that morning, or how he bit his bottom lip when he concentrated, or how his nose had this completely unique shape where the tip dipped down just above his upper lip.  And then he would just fixate on it, like it was something to be worshiped.  If they were in class, he would miss half the lecture and have to do extra reading in his text book later to fill in the blanks.  

And that was just regarding Jim's face.  It was just a fact of life that while living with someone, you were going to see them naked a couple times.  Living in such close quarters with Jim, it was impossible to be 100% private with each other.  But the awful part was that when Jim forgot to bring a towel into the shower with him, and he came out into the main living space completely butt naked and sopping wet, McCoy would file away these little glimpses, and would fixate on them in his head the same way he did with the freckles on Jim's face.  The curve of his ass, or the jut of his hip bones, or the tan, toned expanse of his chest and abs.  These things haunted him, creeping up in his mind at the utmost inconvenient of times.

And to make matters worse, Jim now had this God-awful idea about setting him up with Gaila.  He was clearly trying not to press it after their conversation in the laundry room, but it was definitely still on Jim's mind.  On Thursday when Jim brought him lunch at the clinic – he'd actually gone off-campus to get the good stuff; a real, delicious, oven baked slice of pizza instead of the mushy microwaved mess from the cafeteria – he recounted a conversation he'd had with Gaila the previous night at the bar.

“I was talking to her and some of the other girls from the bar as we were locking up, and they were all talking, you know, about boyfriends and dating and that kind of stuff.  And this girl, Meri, was talking about how she was just enjoying her freedom so much and how she wasn't sure she could ever be completely monogamous, because she didn't want to be tied down.  And I was curious, so I said 'Gaila, what about you, do you see yourself as a one-man kind of gal someday?' and she was like 'Yeah, definitely.  I mean, I know I lay on the charm for the sake of good business, and I've dated a lot of guys, but if we're talking about long term commitment, it'd have to be a one-man-only situation.  Especially if the man was that super sexy and successful doctor friend of yours, Jim.' ”

“She did not say that last part,” McCoy rolled his eyes, taking a huge bite of pizza.

“Okay, fine, not that part, but the rest is true, I thought you'd like to know.”

“Well, I'm glad you're keeping the gossip mill going for my benefit,” McCoy retorted sarcastically.  Why couldn't Jim see that he couldn't be any less interested in Gaila?  He didn't know how to be more blatant without screaming _I might possibly be attracted to you, Jim Kirk, you bastard, so stop trying to set me up with girls!_ and that was obviously not an option.  So he just kept quiet and stuck to sarcastic remarks, hoping Jim would let the matter drop sooner or later.

\--

On the first Wednesday in November, they were both working late.  McCoy had clinic duty until twelve, but Jim didn't leave the pub until last-call ended at two, which meant that McCoy would have two blissful hours to himself.  He could take a long shower, have few drinks, maybe read a book, and try not to think about Jim at all...but in all probability he would end up laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and  dwelling on the way that the corners of Jim's mouth turned up when he smiled, or something equally idiotic.

And so when he got back to the dorm after midnight, he did just that.  Except mental images of Jim's smile or eyes turned into images of bare, tan, skin and strong hands, of muscular calves and trembling thighs, and other things.

He lay back and let his eyes flutter shut, knowing this was awful and that he would regret it, but unable to help himself.  He shifted further up the bed, still in his scrubs, and lifted his shirt the tiniest bit, brushing his fingertips just across the top of the waistband of his pants.  He shuddered.

He had spent so much time the last few days trying to stop himself from thinking of Jim in this way, but maybe what he needed was to just let go, let his mind wander where it would for one night.  If he stopped trying to suppress his thoughts, maybe they would just go away.  It was worth a try, he thought, letting his fingers travel farther down his abdomen until his hand had completely disappeared beneath the elastic waistband of his pants.

He trailed his fingers down around the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, biding time and getting himself worked up before he even touched himself.  He was completely hard by now, but he wanted to savor this, promising himself that this would be the one and only time he used this particular fantasy.  He traced small circles into his thighs, and then worked his way back to his lower stomach before finally, tentatively, palming himself over the soft fabric of his underwear.  His breathing was already labored, and he had barely started.  

He rubbed himself gently for a moment, and then decided it would be easier if he took his pants completely off.  And why stop there, he thought, since he had the dorm to himself.  He stood and undressed himself completely, discarding his scrubs by the closet door and resuming his position on the bed.  He took two fingers, his pointer and thumb, and circled them around the base of his shaft.  He gave a slow tug upward, and groaned out loud.  He could feel adrenaline building in his chest and heat in his stomach.

He thought of Jim, pulling the pillow off of his face the other morning after yelling his name to wake him up.  Jim, grinning down at him, so pleased with himself.  Jim, climbing back into bed with him.  Kissing him.  Writhing against him.  Clothes disappearing.  Lithe, easy movements beneath the sheets.  Big, rough hands – not slim and soft female ones like he was used to – stroking him, just like he was stroking himself right then.  He quickened his pace, pulling up quickly and then slowly back down again, letting his thumb brush over the head on each stroke.  

He threw his free arm over his eyes, head thrown back, back arching.  He thought of Jim sucking at his collarbone and the crook of his neck, kissing the corners of his mouth, kissing the line between his eyebrows, trying to rid him of all his worries.  He thought of scrambling for purchase, digging his fingers into Jim's back and shoulder blades, gasping, hearing Jim call his name.   _Bones, Bones, Bones._

He usually didn’t let himself get vocal, but no one was here to hear him, and he was having trouble containing himself.  He let out breathy little sounds and low moans until he was right on the edge, stroking, stroking, and he almost convinced himself that it wasn't his hand after all, that he wasn't alone, that he was loved and wanted and needed and – _oh_.  Images of Jim, sweaty, shaking and beautiful on top of him, flashed rapidly through McCoy’s mind until his stomach tightened and released, and he came finally, all over his hand, panting Jim's name.  He kept stroking for a moment, until his breathing had calmed and he could open his eyes without seeing stars. _God._  He hadn't been able work himself over that well in a while.  

A few minutes later however, after the giddy ecstasy of his orgasm had worn off, negative thoughts started creeping in again.  What would Jim think, if he'd known that he was used as the subject of some crazed sexual fantasy by hismale roommate?  He immediately got into the shower not just to wash away the physical evidence but also to attempt scrubbing away his guilt.  

He got out of the shower a few minutes later, put on clean pajamas, and slunk back into his bed.  He shouldn't have been so surprised when Jim didn't come home at two.  And he certainly shouldn't have been so disappointed.  He lay there in the dark, wallowing in his own thoughts for several more hours, and feigned sleep when Jim came through the door a little after four.

“Bones?  Why are you still up?”  Jim whispered into the darkness.

“How did you know I was up?” he whispered back.  

“Because you always snore when you're asleep.”

“I do not,” he retorted indignantly, and then sighed.  “I just couldn't sleep.”

“Oh.”

Bones paused, thinking that he shouldn't ask, but unable to help himself.  “Did you have a good time, with whoever it was?”

“Yeah.”

That was it.  Jim never missed an opportunity to spill all of the details of his sexual encounters, but tonight it was just ‘Yeah’?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...it was...nice.”

Nice.  Okay.  Whatever, if Jim didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have to.  It would have only made McCoy feel worse, anyway.

“Well, whatever.  Goodnight, Jim.”  He sounded angry.  He hadn't intended to.

“'Night, Bones...”  Jim sounded confused, but he got into bed and didn't say another word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt an ambient emptiness all the way home, which was very odd, because he had never been the type who needed emotional attachment to enjoy sex.
> 
> (Jim's POV of chapter 4).

All throughout his shift on Wednesday night, Jim scanned the crowd for potential dates for Bones.  He tried to use his best deduction skills to figure out who would be a good match – a wedding ring obviously ruled a girl out...an engagement or promise ring wouldn't have been a deal-breaker for Jim, but for Bones it would be, so that ruled out another group.  Someone confident, forward, who wouldn't mind making all the first moves.  Someone carefree and optimistic, to balance Bones' anxious and pessimistic nature.  Hard to deduce from just glancing around the bar, but he was pretty good at chatting people up and getting a sense of who may or may not be a good match.  He made his way around the bar, serving drinks and paying more attention to small details in body language and attitude in women than he ever had for his own benefit.  He was investing way more energy into his friend's sorry-ass love life (or lack thereof) than he ever had with his own.

“Hey, sugar, can we get another round of greyhounds over here?” a bold brunette called over to Jim from across the counter where she was seated with her group of friends.  They were all clad in low cut dresses and shiny, dangling earrings.  Young, but older than him – maybe Bones' age or a little older.  A group of cougars.  Jim could roll with this.

“Sure thing, ladies,” he grinned and started mixing another round.  Maybe he would chat them all up a bit, go home with whoever seemed the most interested, and then get her to set Bones up with one of her friends.

He brought the girls their greyhounds on a tray and then leaned over on the counter, resting his chin on one hand and smiling.  “Can I get anything else for you beautiful girls?” he winked.

He took in the appearances of the four women: a blonde with a sweet, pretty face; a strong, athletic looking redhead; a dark haired girl who was maybe part Denobulan; and the brunette who had called him over.  The brunette smirked her lipstick-covered smile and looked at him with hungry eyes, seeming very animalistic in demeanor.  She placed a long-fingered hand on his arm.  “We're okay on drinks, honey, but come back when your shift is over and ask me again.”

Well, that settled who _he_ would be going home with.  Just as well, because he wasn't sure Bones could handle someone so aggressive and forward.

He stayed and chatted with the women for a few moments, and concluded that none of them were _good_ enough for Bones.  He had never noticed before, probably because he was only ever after sex and never after a real relationship, that most of the women who came here were incredibly shallow and boring.  Bones deserved complexity, intelligence, confidence.  He deserved more than Jim could articulate.  He deserved not just the world, but the stars as well.

That kind of profundity was not to be found at the bar tonight, or so it seemed.  This would be so much easier if Bones was a willing participant, and actually agreed to come to the bar to flirt with women, instead of Jim always having to do all the work.  He had so wanted to set Bones up with Gaila, but he was being so stubborn about it that Jim had given up, figuring that for some strange reason he just really wasn't attracted to her.  So he turned to the patrons at the pub instead, which was proving to be extremely difficult.

When his shift ended, the girls all filed out along with the other patrons, but the brunette pulled him aside to whisper in his ear as he wiped down a table.  “I'll meet you out front,” she purred, trailing one hand along his arm as she passed.  She hadn't taken her eyes off of him all evening.

He felt bad that it had been yet another unsuccessful night.  He also felt that it was selfish to be going home with anyone, when he was supposed to be finding someone for Bones.  But the brunette was hot, and Jim was horny, and he decided he could afford to be less picky with his own sexual partners than he could in choosing one for Bones.

He finished wiping the tables, put on his jacket, and walked out front onto the chilly sidewalk, huffing out a breath into the cold November air.  She was waiting for him against the brick exterior of the bar, and she had on a long leopard print coat and tall black boots.  He swallowed, hard.  “I never got your name,” he spoke.

“Azalea,” she smirked in a way that told him this wasn't her real name.  “And you're James, or so said your name tag.”  

“Jim.”

“And that's the extent to which I'd like to get to know you, Jim.  No more small talk.”  She slipped her arm through his, and led him to her car.

\--

The sex had been good, really good, but he couldn't help feeling a bit like a rag-doll, being tossed around and used as a tool for her pleasure, rather than being treated as a human being.  It wasn't that she was rude to him, or that he'd never had impersonal sex – he'd had plenty – but for some reason everything just felt off.  They lay in her bed after they'd finished, and she lit a cigarette, proffering the box to him, which he refused.  All he could think was that he wasn't supposed to be here, that he should be back in the dorm with Bones.  They should have been drinking bourbon and playing cards, or sitting on their beds, talking about their days.  He wanted to hear Bones' slow southern drawl drone on about the horrible inefficiency of the medical assistants at the clinic, or some such thing.  Bones was surely asleep by now anyway, but he just needed to get home.  

He usually stayed most of the night with a woman, if he was going to bother being there at all.  If he had class the next morning, he would slip out just early enough to get back to his dorm to shower and dress.  He wasn't sure what the general etiquette rule was, regarding how long one should stay after sex.  But considering that this woman didn't want to know anything about him apart from his name, and couldn't even tell him hers, he figured it would be safe to go now – it was just after three – without hurting her feelings.  

He lifted the covers and sat up, picking his jeans up off her bedroom floor and slipping them on.  “Well, uh...thanks.  That was really great, but I should be going.”    

She nodded, seeming disinterested, as if he had not just been in her bed half an hour earlier, with his hands up her dress and her fingers in his hair – and she had certainly seemed to enjoy that, at the time.  She waved goodbye vaguely, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray on her bedside table.  Okay, so he wasn't used to sex being _this_ impersonal. His partners were usually a little more gracious.

He exited through her front door, taking in the beautiful Victorian apartment fronts as he walked the winding roads of Pacific Heights in the dark, back to the bus stop by the Lion Pub.  He felt an ambient emptiness all the way home, which was very odd, because he had never been the type who needed emotional attachment to enjoy sex.  Perhaps he was just getting older, and it was showing itself in weird ways, but he couldn't help thinking that this was the last time he would go home with someone who was clearly using him and didn't have a care in the world for him.  Casual sex was fine, but there needed to be something there, something more.  It was becoming clearer and clearer that there was only one person in the universe he wanted to lay awake talking to late into the night, and to instead have contrived and shallow sexual relations, when he could be investing time in his genuine and unadorned friendship with his roommate, was losing its appeal.  

He came into the dorm a little after four, and immediately knew that Bones wasn't asleep by the absence of snoring, which he had become so accustomed to that he could hardly sleep without it.  His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness of the room, but he could just make out Bones' figure, curled over to one side of his bed, closest to the wall.  It was if he was trying to make himself as small as possible, and for some reason the vast expanse of vinyl mattress next to him intensified Jim's empty feeling.

“Bones?  Why are you still up?”  Jim called out in a hushed tone.

“How did you know I was up?” Bones inquired in a whisper.  He sounded weary, tired, lonely.  Jim felt all the more guilty for going home with that dreaded woman.

“Because you always snore when you're asleep.”

“I do _not_ ,” he grumbled, and then sighed before continuing, “I just couldn't sleep.”

“Oh.”

Jim just stood in the doorway, wondering if he should say anything else, but it was Bones who broke the silence.

“Did you have a good time, with whoever it was?”

 _Jesus, is it that obvious I’ve been out having sex?  I could have gone to a 24 hour diner for a slice of pie after work or something_...but obviously Bones knew him better than that. He didn't feel like going into the story about the woman he'd gone home with that night, and didn't know if he could articulate why he had come home feeling so lost and unsatisfied if he tried.  So he just replied “Yeah,” hoping Bones would drop it.

 _“Yeah?”_ Bones seemed surprised by the vague answer.

“Yeah...it was...nice.”

“Well, whatever.  Goodnight, Jim.”  He sounded angry.  Jim had no idea why he would be, but it made him feel terrible.  What a strange night.

“'Night, Bones...”  Jim was confused, but he got into bed and didn't say another word.  

He knew that whatever had Bones wound up that night would blow over, and that he would bring Bones lunch tomorrow at the clinic, and everything would be fine and back to normal, because that was just how their friendship worked.  Maybe Jocelyn had commed him earlier, and put him in a bad mood like she always did when she called to ask about child support or whatever.  All the same, it didn't feel good, and he couldn't help but take it personally. _Don't be angry with me_ , he pleaded silently. _I wasn't having any fun, and all I could think about all night was finding a girl to set you up with, and afterthat, I just knew I needed to get home to you._

It was a while still before Bones' snores filled the dorm, but when they did, Jim was finally able to fall into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short one this time, to explore Jim's perspective on that night. The pace will be picking up in the next few chapters though :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy is invited back to Georgia for Thanksgiving break.

McCoy had hoped his little jack-off session would be the end of it.  He had hoped that it was just pent up sexual frustration, slowly eating away at him and then suddenly expressing itself in a somewhat unusual and unwelcome manner.  He knew all about the psychology of sex and of sexual fantasies, and how there was often no rhyme nor reason to them, and how a sexual fantasy about someone didn't necessarily mean you were sexually or romantically attracted to the person in question.  Needless to say, this was not one of those cases.  

He adopted a silent mantra in his head.  Every time he started thinking about Jim like that, usually when he was walking to the grocery store to stock the fridge, or to the library to get some quiet study time, his every footstep would be accentuated by _Don't.  Don't.  Don't._  Sometimes, it was: _Stop.  Stop.  Stop._  Or even:   _You're an idiot.  What are you doing.  Give it up._  It was getting really bad.

He couldn't explain why, but ever since high school, he had seen having a crush on someone as a horrible experience.  It always led to awful self doubt and loathing, and sleepless nights regretting things he'd said or done in front of the person.  This was the reason he never liked to approach women.  If Jocelyn hadn't approached him in college, he would never have been married in first place.

Of course, everything was made worse by the fact that it wasn't some high school crush on some random girl this time, it was _Jim_.  Jim, who was twenty-two and had never been tied down to anything or anyone in his life.  He'd escaped the whirlwind of his childhood with only a few emotional scars, and since then he'd been going, going, going.  Getting in bar fights, crashing cars, sleeping with everyone he could.  He was a force of nature.

McCoy was a deadbeat divorcee with a drinking problem.  There was no way in hell Jim would settle down with _anyone,_ let alone him.  True, Jim was currently in what was probably the most steady, responsible stage of his life – getting good grades and holding down a steady job and everything.  But the floods of women were no different, although, strangely, Jim had been spending more and more nights after work in their own dorm lately.

At any rate, Jim would never think of McCoy in that way, and McCoy would certainly never ask or expect him to.  Quite possibly, Jim would be up for a quick-and-dirty fuck – at least a handjob or something – and it wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind.  Jim would sleep with people of pretty much any class, race, age, or species, so surely gender would be no different.  But he didn't think he could bring himself to proposition Jim, and besides, he didn't think that he would be able to slip back into ordinary friendship after something like that.  It was all or nothing, and since he was 100% certain that Jim would never even consider a relationship with him, he was trying to come to terms with the idea of nothing.

He was too old for this shit.  Too old for schoolboy crushes and crippling angst about things that didn't matter.  Which is why when Jocelyn commed a week before Thanksgiving break, he welcomed it.  Usually he dreaded her calls, because they left him feeling like an awful failure, a shitty father, and a sorry-ass excuse for a human being.   But given his current state of lusting after his roommate at all waking hours of the day, he needed a distraction.  Maybe being berated about the timeliness of his child support payments would snap him back into reality and remind him that there were more important things than Jim's ocean-blue eyes.

He sat on the edge of his bed and placed a hand to his temple, mentally preparing himself for the fire, and opened his comm.  “McCoy here.”

“Leonard, it's Jocelyn.”  As if he didn't know.

“What is it?”  He had stopped with the niceties a while ago.

“I wanted to double check what day your Thanksgiving break starts.”

“A day before Thanksgiving, and then back to school the Monday after.”

“I see.  Well, I know it's one of your agreed-upon holidays with Joanna,” she started.   _Here we go,_ McCoy thought.  He hadn't had one holiday with his daughter since the divorce, and she was going to try to take the first one away from him.  “But the thing is, Joanna has to be back in school on Monday as well,” she continued, “And I just think it would be too much right now, to uproot her and fly her out to California just to fly her back four days later.  And besides, a dorm room isn't any place for a _real_  Thanksgiving dinner,” she laughed, high pitched and full of belittlement.

It was true;  he hadn't really thought the whole thing through, and the dorm would have made an awfully makeshift home for Thanksgiving, not to mention that they didn't even have an oven.  He wondered how many Thanksgiving dishes one could successfully prepare in a microwave.  But that was beside the matter – he hadn't seen his daughter in three months, and it was well within his custody rights to have her with him for Thanksgiving.  He opened his mouth to protest, but Jocelyn was still talking.

“Well,” she pushed on, “in order to avoid any conflict, I thought the best thing to do would be to just have you come back here to Georgia for your break.  Then you don't have to cook, we both get to spend the day with Joanna, and everyone's happy.”  Well, he hadn't seen that one coming.  Spending thanksgiving with Jocelyn was really the last thing he wanted to do, but he so wanted to spend it with Joanna, and the reasoning made sense.  Besides, it would give him space to breathe and time away from Jim to process whatever it was that was making him act like such a lunatic lately.

“Fine, alright,”  he agreed.

“Wonderful!” Jocelyn exclaimed.  He knew she was dreading seeing him as much as he was her, but she had always had a knack for sounding genuine when she wasn't.

“Yeah, great.  Well, see you in a week.”  He hung up before she could drag the conversation on any longer.  

Jim got back from his Astro-Sci class around five, and McCoy had been all prepared to tell him his plans for Thanksgiving, he really had.  But Jim came in tired and worn from his long day of classes, after which he only had time to scarf down a few bites of dinner before he had to get ready for work, and almost immediately brought up the upcoming holiday break.

“So, for Thanksgiving, I was thinking we could find somewhere to buy an already-roasted turkey, since obviously we can't even fit a turkey in our microwave, and that would be pretty gross, anyway,” he spoke as he microwaved some already disgusting leftover pizza from the cafeteria, “And then I asked my mom to send me the recipe for her homemade cheesy potatoes, oh my God, you'll die when you taste – ”

“Jim,” McCoy cut in, “Thanksgiving is one of the holidays I asked to have Joanna for, in the custody battle.”

“Oh, that's awesome, I can't wait to meet her!  She's gonna love my apple pie – hmm, wonder how I'll do that without an oven – ”

“Jim, listen.  Jocelyn commed today, and she wants me to come back to Georgia for my break.  She thinks it would be easier than sending Joanna here, and it makes sense...”

Jim took his pizza out of the microwave, sat down at the table, and refused to meet McCoy's eyes.  “Oh,” he said quietly to his plate, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Jim's dejected body language nearly broke McCoy.  It wasn't until then that he realized – Jim didn't really have anyone to spend holidays with.  His mother was off-planet, as usual, and he clearly wasn't going to go back to Iowa to spend it with Frank.  And who knew where his brother was these days.  McCoy was all Jim had, really.  It made him feel awful to think of Jim alone for Thanksgiving and Christmas and everything for the several years between his moving out of Frank's and coming to the Academy.    

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and continued, unable to deal with the prospect of leaving Jim alone over break.  “...and I was going to see if you wanted to come with me,”  He finished, hoping it didn't sound too much like an afterthought.

Jim brightened.  “Really?  That wouldn't be weird?”

McCoy laughed.  “Spending Thanksgiving with my ex-wife is going to be weird enough.  You couldn't possibly do anything to make it weirder.” _I hope.  As long as I can just not let on in front of my ex, and especially my daughter, that I've got a secret hard-on for my roommate, everything will be fine._

“Awesome,” Jim grinned.  “I can't wait.  Oh, man, this means we're finally gonna do that shuttle ride I promised you.  Remember, when we first got here, and I said we could take the shuttle places so you could work on getting over your aviophobia?”

“Uh, no, that's okay.  I thought we could take the train or something.”

“Are you insane?  That would take ages.  It's like five minutes in one of the Starfleet shuttles.  I'm sure I can talk someone into giving me an all-access pass for the weekend.”

 _You can flirt your way into getting an all-access pass, you mean._  “There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”

“Nope.”  Jim winked, finishing his pizza and taking his plate to the sink.  He changed out of his Academy uniform and into his standard sexy jeans and T-shirt for work.  McCoy tried not to look.  Well, so much for getting a little space.  Jim was like a stray puppy yapping at his heels that he was unable to shake, try as he might.

Jim convinced him to come to the bar again.  He sat at the counter with a glass of bourbon and coke, and listened to Jim tell all of his co-workers and patrons how excited he was to have a real, home cooked, Georgia style Thanksgiving dinner.  He was so endearing, so adorable, like a kid on Christmas morning.  McCoy wondered exactly how long it had been since he'd had anyone to spend the holiday with.

\--

They were almost completely packed and ready to go by the following Wednesday morning, the first day of their break.  McCoy had made a packing list on his PADD, and rattled it off while Jim was shuffling around the dorm, knee-deep in stacks of clothes and and empty luggage.

“Coats?”

“Check.”

“Plenty of socks and clean underwear?”

“Check.”

“A couple of clean, pressed button downs to wear to Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Check.”

“A tie for each of us?”

“A tie – Jesus, Bones, are we going to a wedding or Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Jocelyn takes Thanksgiving dinner _very seriously,_ Jim.”

Jim groaned and returned to the closet, poking his head into the far corners which he had not yet searched.  “I don't think I even _own_ a tie.  In fact, I don't think I've _ever worn_ a tie.”

McCoy rolled his eyes and set his PADD down on the bed, walking over and opening the bottom drawer of the tiny dresser that was stowed away in the closet.  He pulled out a thin black silk tie and an almost identical blue one, and held them up to Jim.

“Well luckily I've got two, so pick one.”  Jim pointed to the blue, and McCoy threw them into their respective clothing piles.  

Amazingly, they had gathered everything they needed in just two carry-on suitcases and were ready to catch their shuttle by ten o' clock.  Once at the shipyard, McCoy felt his chest tightening and sweat beginning to bead at his hairline.  He had not flown since the shuttle that took them here in the first place, and he suddenly found himself desperately scrambling for any excuse not to board the aircraft.

“Look, Jim, I figure it's better if I miss one holiday with Joanna than die in the air on the way there.  Better an absent father than a pile of ashes, right?”  He laughed nervously and turned on his heel, making his way for the exit.

“Bones, Bones, Bones, stop.”  Jim grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him back towards the boarding area, standing in front of him and holding him firmly in place.  Jim spoke quietly but with an authoritarian air that McCoy didn't know he was capable of.

“Look at me.”  McCoy did.  Fuck those mesmerizing jolly-rancher eyes.  “You are not backing out of this.  Your daughter is waiting for you.  She hasn't seen you in three months, and she misses you.  You are not going to die.  I'll make sure of that.”

“But – ”

“No.  Shut up.  You've saved lives.  You've faced death and made snap decisions under a shitload of pressure, and you've always come out on top.  And you're going to be doing even more of that in a few years, as the CMO of some super important starship.  That I'm sure of.  So grab your aviophobia by the balls and get your ass on that shuttle, okay?”

McCoy glared daggers at him, but slung his luggage over one shoulder nonetheless, and hurried aboard the vessel.  He went straight for a seat in the middle row, but Jim grabbed his arm and dragged him into a seat smack next to a window. _Fuckfuckfuckingfuck._

“Okay, breathe.  Are you okay?”

“No.”  There was a woman's voice speaking over the intercom, counting down to take-off.  This was happening already?  Didn't they  normally wait a while to make sure everyone was settled and everything?   _Oh my God.  Goodbye cruel world._  He closed his eyes tight and clenched his fists at his sides.

“Yes you are.  Okay, look, we're off the ground now.  In a minute, I want you to look out the window, when we're in low-orbit, okay?  I swear to God, it's going to be the most amazing thing you've ever seen.  Okay....now.”

McCoy opened his eyes against his better judgment, and looked out the window.  It was the first time he had ever seen Earth from this vantage point, since he'd made a point to never look out a shuttle window before.  What a strange sight, to see swirling white clouds below instead of above him.  For a split second he was distracted by his awe, until he shifted his gaze to the endless black abyss.

_“Jim.  There is no atmosphere right here.”_

“Really?”  Jim smirked sarcastically.  

“If it wasn't for this ship, we would be dead in a heartbeat.”

“Well, it's a good thing we're in a ship then.”

Jim placed a hand on his knee to comfort him, and he was suddenly overcome by an entirely different set of nerves.  It was remarkably similar to the feeling he imagined he would have if one of the shuttle windows suddenly fell out or something.  He would be sucked out into space as if by a vacuum, the blood vessels in his eyes would rupture, his lungs would be destroyed by the drop in pressure, and he would be dead within a minute.  Given this situation, his body would be completely unable to sustain him.  And yet, Jim's hand on his knee made him feel like all of those things were already happening; he was sure that his blood vessels were rupturing and his lungs had ceased their function and he was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles and his stomach was tied in knots that would never be untied...and somehow, he was still alive and well.

He met Jim's eyes and hoped that his own didn't show as much fear and vulnerability as he felt.  Jim just smiled.  “We're exiting low orbit already.  Look.”

They hurtled toward the ground and McCoy could soon make out sprawling fields of Iowa farmland, and he felt the feeling returning to his legs.  When they landed, he undid the restricting seat belt and stood, feeling relieved and shaky.  They had to catch another shuttle to Georgia almost immediately, but he felt more prepared this time.  He couldn't believe Jim had actually made him do this, and that he hadn't passed out or thrown up at all. _Dammit Jim,_ he thought _, I feel like I'd do anything you asked me to at this point, and that scares the shit out of me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gotten a lot of really sweet comments about this fic recently, both here and on tumblr, and I just want to say that I am endlessly grateful for those who are reading and enjoying this fic. Your comments and kudos really make my day, and inspire me to keep writing :) Thank you all! And if you have a question about the fic, or just want to chat, stop by my tumblr! www.padfootlestrange.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim meets Bones' family for the first time.

Once aboard the second shuttle, Jim questioned Bones about his family in Georgia in an effort to distract him from the fact that they were so far off the ground.  

“What does Jocelyn do for a living?”

“She's a successful wedding planner.  Wonder if she tells her clients how screwed up her own marriage was.”

“Remind me how old Joanna is now?”

“She's six.”

“Is it going to be weird going back?”

“Extremely.”

His answers were short, but the more Jim talked, the less Bones' hands clenched.  He was hardly at ease, but he was doing far better than he had on the shuttle the first day they had met.  Jim kept quizzing him, trying to think of anything to talk about that would distract his friend from their current physical confines.  

When they landed and boarded a bus to Bones' old neighborhood, he was visibly nervous again, for reasons other than his fear of flying.  When they got off the bus at the top of a quiet street, Bones’ hands were back in fists, clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white.  Jim nudged him with his shoulder, intent on being the biggest support net he could for his friend.  “It's okay, Bones.  This is about Joanna...you're here to see Joanna.  Don't worry about anything else.”

Bones said nothing, but led them up the front steps of a big, classic country farmhouse.  White, with a spacious porch that wrapped around the sides, complete with a porch swing swaying in the chilly breeze.  A golden-russet rainbow of maple leaves scattered the lawn and the streets, falling from a beautiful tree in the middle of the yard.  Big windows with flowing curtains, cracked open to let a bit of fresh fall air in.  Jim half expected to see a pie sitting out to cool on one of the windowsills.  

Bones took his sweet time working up the courage to ring the doorbell.  “Feels weird ringing the bell on my own damned house,” he muttered under his breath.  “I've still got a key, maybe I should just go in.”

“Bones, we can't just stand here all day.”

He compromised by knocking, and then shoved his hands immediately into the pockets of his jeans while they awaited an answer.  His' eyes lit up and he visibly relaxed when they heard the sound of small feet running to open the door, and a round wide-eyed face peered out of the curtains to check who it was.

Joanna grinned and closed the curtains, unlocking the door.  “Daddy!” she exclaimed, flying into her father's arms so fast that Jim hardly got to look at her.

Bones knelt down and squeezed her tight, pressing kisses to the top of her hair.  “I missed you, sweetie.  I missed you so much.”

Jim had never seen Bones so openly affectionate with anyone, and it tugged at his heart in the way that such genuine, unadorned love would tug at anyone's.  They stayed like that, hugging and smiling and saying “I missed you,” over and over, for a long moment.  Then Joanna broke free and stared up at Jim.  

“Who are you?”

“Hi, Joanna, I'm Jim,” he smiled down at her.  “I'm your dad's friend, from school.”

“Are you a movie star?”

Bones laughed and Jim smiled awkwardly, replying “Uh, not that I'm aware of...”

“She just means,” said Bones, chuckling and grinning up at Jim, “that you’re...you know,” he laughed again when Jim still didn't get it.  “You're, come on, I know you know it.  You're completely, incredibly, Hollywood-worthy _handsome.”_

Joanna giggled and shrieked “That's not what I meant!” burying her face in her dad's coat, embarrassed.  Jim laughed heartily, flattered, and Bones stood, still holding Joanna in his arms.  Jim looked at the little girl's face resting on Bones' shoulder and the first thing he thought was that she was a tiny, female replica of Bones.  Jaw-length chestnut hair, wide brown eyes, and the same exact mouth shape, with a tiny cupid's-bow upper lip and a rounded bottom one.  She was adorable.

“Who's handsome?” a slow, smooth female voice called from inside, accompanied by the click-clack of high heels on hardwood floor.  Jocelyn appeared in the doorway and stopped short when she saw Jim.  She placed one hand on her hip and the other on the door frame, looking him up and down.  “I didn't know you were bringing a friend, Leonard, or else I would've put something decent on!” she laughed, high pitched and tinkling.  Her Georgia accent was thicker than Bones'.  She was a picturesque southern bell, adorned in a flowered housedress and pointy-toed pumps.  Her hair was auburn, pulled back in a high ponytail.  Her face was sharp, but pretty, with high cheekbones and arched eyebrows.  Less severe than Jim had anticipated, but he got the impression that there could very well be a touch of poison in her honey-sweet drawl.    

Bones' face slipped from the adoring expression he had worn while greeting Joanna to his standard surly, reserved frown.  Jim extended his hand to her and introduced himself.  “Jim Kirk.”  Jocelyn accepted his handshake and appraised him with warm eyes, and then her expression cooled as she turned to face Bones.

“Leonard, good to see you.  I hope you're well.”

“Yeah, I am.” he nodded once, looking horribly awkward.  He really didn’t do well with pleasantries and small talk; it was one of the things Jim enjoyed most about Bones.  He was unable to fake politeness, which meant that if he talked to you at all, it was a sure sign that he genuinely liked you.  And sometimes Jim couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Just then, a man appeared in the doorway next to Jocelyn, and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  He was tall and thin, with neatly trimmed dark hair and a young, boyish face.  He couldn’t have been much older than Jim.  Jim and Bones both stared at him.  If things had been awkward before, it was nothing compared to the heavy tension that now hung in the air.  Jocelyn startled and her cheeks tinged pink, turning her head to the man and smiling.

“Oh, darling, you startled me!” she laughed.  “Dave, this is, um –  this is Joanna's father, Leonard.  And his friend, from the star-academy, Jim Kirk.”  

Dave stuck out his hand to each of them in turn, introducing himself.  “Hi, boys, nice to meet ya.  I'm Dave, Jocelyn's boyfriend.”

Bones went pale, and seemed at a loss for words.

“Come in, come in,” Dave ushered them inside the house and into the sitting room, taking their coats.  He sure was being cordial toward his girlfriend's ex husband of only a few months, Jim thought, and doubted whether he himself could manage to be so friendly if placed in a similar situation, especially considering Bones' face and body language.  His arms were crossed as he sat on the sofa next to Jim, across from Dave, and steam was practically coming out of his ears.  He softened once again when Joanna clambered up onto his lap, carrying an armful of toys and drawings and things to show him, but he was clearly still tense, and Jim wanted nothing more than for everyone else to disappear so he could reassure Bones that everything would be alright.  

Jocelyn followed them into the sitting room a few minutes later, bearing a pitcher full of iced tea on a tray stacked with glasses.  They sipped tea and sat in silence for a while, interspersed only with the sounds of Bones quietly complementing Joanna's drawings and her giggling and telling him all about them.

Dave tried in vain to make forced conversation.  He was obviously trying so hard to not be the enemy that Jim felt almost sorry for him.  He asked how their flight had been, but before they could answer, Jocelyn slipped in condescending comment regarding Bones' aviophobia.   “I'm surprised you actually flew, Leonard, and that you didn't pass out even once!  Or did he, Jim?”

“No, no.  He did great.” Jim nodded politely.  “He'll be ready for a five-year mission with Starfleet in no time.”

She smiled with tight lips.  “How nice.”  Jim knew that she had always thought enlisting in Starfleet to be a ridiculous endeavor, and had openly scoffed when Bones first announced he was doing so, around the time of the divorce.

“I get where you’re coming from, doc,” Dave smiled, trying to ease the tension.  Things would be so much better if he would just shut up.  “I like to stay put on the ground, too.  That's why I'm studying to be a lawyer.”  Jim groaned inwardly.  Dave really was not helping.  Bones’ eyebrows rose in a way that said _of course you are._

After a while, it seemed that none of them were able to stand the tension, not even Joanna, who cast worried looks between her mother and father every few moments.  No doubt she had some memories of the fights and turmoil her parents had gone through, and was not completely ignorant to the weirdness of the situation at hand.  Jocelyn finally stood and  announced that her, Dave and Joanna needed to leave to go grocery shopping for thanksgiving dinner.

The three of them rose, and Jocelyn addressed Bones.  When she spoke to him, her voice changed from radiating warmth and southern hospitality to giving off the air of a stern school teacher.  “Leonard, I'm turning your old study into a guest room, so that's where I'm going to put you up.  I would've prepared another room, but I didn't know you would be bringing an extra guest...so I suppose you'll have to figure out how to share.  Also, it would be really helpful if you could go through and pack up anything you wanted to save, so I can get it cleaned up in there for when we have other guests.  If there’s anything you want to take with you, just put it in your suitcase, and throw the rest in a garbage bag.”

Joanna kissed Bones goodbye on the cheek, and Dave shook hands with him and then with Jim.  Bones tried to slip Jocelyn a 50 dollar bill to help with the groceries, but she declined.  “I can afford to feed my family, Leonard, but thank you.”

So Jim and Bones were left alone on the couch, with the house to themselves and a lot of unspoken emotions hanging in the air.  “Well,” Bones started.  Jim waited for him to say more, but more never came.  After Jocelyn's car had pulled away from the driveway, Jim stood and extended a hand to pull Bones to his feet.  He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, a tacit indication that he knew, he understood how painful this was.  Neither of them needed to speak.  

Jim walked over to the entry way, where they had set their luggage down when they came in the house, and picked up the two suitcases.  “Come on, Bones,” he said quietly, “I'll help you pack up your things from the study.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY short chapter, but I needed a transition before the next one, which is one of my personal favorites :) I think you guys will enjoy it.
> 
> I'm back in school now, so I'm finding it harder and harder to find time to write, edit, and post. For the time being, this fic will update every Tuesday (with a McCoy chapter) and Friday (with a Jim chapter). We'll see how long I can keep up with that ;)
> 
> Thank you, as always, for all the support on this fic!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and McCoy clean out the old study in Jocelyn's home; Jim finds something interesting under the bed, and doesn't let McCoy live it down.

When Jocelyn asked him to clear out his things from the study, McCoy couldn’t help noticing how she acted like it was _his_ decision to leave behind all his belongings, instead of him coming home one day to find a duffel bag on the front porch containing his clothes, his medical supplies, and the contents of his liquor cabinet.  She had taped a note to a bottle of bourbon, reading: _“You might as well take it with you, because I'm certainly not going to drink it.”_

This was so typical.  He had just arrived, spent less than an hour with his daughter, met his wife’s model-looking new boyfriend who looked like he could be a decade younger than McCoy, been through the entire range of his emotions, and now they were leaving.  But not without Jocelyn giving him something to do, of course.  When they were married, he was pretty sure her most overused phrase had been “Make yourself useful.”

At any rate, when Jocelyn, Dave and Joanna left to go shopping, he welcomed it.  He was thrilled to see Joanna again -- he hadn’t quite realized how much he’d missed her until she was there in his arms again -- but he was internally freaking out about this Dave guy, and he needed space to process it all.  He certainly hadn’t expected Jocelyn to be in a relationship so soon after they had split...unless they had been seeing each other since before the divorce, a possibility which McCoy didn’t care to entertain.

So he and Jim were left with the house to themselves, empty and full of memories, both familiar and foreign, like visiting the town you grew up in after it had been industrialized and overrun with unfamiliar shops and restaurants.  The same dainty porcelain teacups they'd been gifted for their wedding were still visible through the glass doors of the china cabinet, the same floral throw pillows adorned the sofa, and even the same spaghetti sauce stain high up on one wall in the dining room still remained (they'd never been able to reach to clean it completely, after two-year-old Joanna had flung a handful of her dinner toward the ceiling one night).

But their wedding photo was gone from the mantle; the quilt his grandmother had sewn for Joanna, which had once been slung over the back of the couch, was packed away somewhere; and there were things of Dave's laying around, like a pair of hiking boots by the door and, he later found, a bottle of his aftershave in the bathroom.  They stood out like glaring reminders of the space McCoy used to fill in this home, which had been reduced to less and less until he felt like a stranger, and someone else had come to fill his spot.

McCoy led Jim down the hall, into his study-turned-guest-room.  The most obvious difference was that there was a bed where his desk had been, but other than that it was pretty much the same.  Tall bookshelves still lined the walls, filled with encyclopedias of anatomy and psychology, and old notebooks from med-school, covered in his messy scrawl where he had taken notes about cancer cells and mental illness.  The same old antique clock on the wall, the same white curtains on the window.  The framed photo of himself and Joanna at the state fair a couple of years ago had once been on his desk, and now sat on the bedside table.  Her hair was in pigtails, and she sat on his lap as they watched a horse show.  “Horsey, daddy, horsey!” he remembered her squealing and pointing, as he laughed and Jocelyn snapped the photo.  The picture was the first thing he put in his suitcase, carefully wrapping it in one of his shirts.

He proceeded to go through the closet, where a few of his old sweaters and coats had been stored, while Jim went through the bookshelves, holding up dusty volumes and asking “Keep or toss?” to which McCoy would usually reply “Toss,” save for a few of his favorites.  Then they moved on to under the bed, where a few random boxes were stored, and started opening them and sorting through the contents.

Jim found an old worn shoebox, taped shut and heavy.  He picked it up and shook it gently.  It sounded like it was full of magazines or something, and then recognition dawned on McCoy's face.  Oh no.  “What's this?” Jim inquired.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” McCoy replied.  “Give it to me, I meant to throw that out ages ago.”  He held out his hands to take the box, but Jim held on to it, curious.

“Oh, my god, Bones, are you blushing?  Is this _porn?"_

“I've never blushed in my life, you idiot, and no, it's not porn.”

He was so disgruntled, so concerned about Jim having the box in his possession that it clearly showed on his face, and drove ever-impulsive and mischievous Jim to tear through the tape on the box lid and open it to reveal a stack of a dozen or so thin paperback books.  Jim picked up the one on the top of the stack and read the title.

“The E. E. _Cummings_ collection?  Oh my god, it's porn, I knew it.  This must be some kinky ass shit.”

He flipped through the book and his face fell.  “No pictures?”

_“It's.  Not. Porn.”_  McCoy growled.  “It's _poetry_ , you fucking dumbass.”

Jim could hardly contain his glee.  “Aww, the big surly doctor has a secret poetry collection!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.  Creative writing is a lost art in this century.  They offer a class at the Academy, but it's a hobby class.  Virtually no one majors in liberal arts, let alone makes a career out of writing poetry.”

“What century were these written in, then?” he took the books carefully out of the box, examining each cover.  Sylvia Plath.  Robert Frost.  Edna St. Vincent Millay.  “I've never heard any of these names before.  They must be old.”  

“A few late 19th, but mostly 20th century.”

“Wow.  Who would've thought.  I thought I'd gotten some good dirt on you, Bones, when I thought it was porn.  Although, who’s to say which would be more embarrassing – poetry or porn ?”  Jim grinned.

“You tell anyone, and I'll murder you,” McCoy answered with an exasperated smile.  He took the books from Jim, and got up to take them over to the trash bag they had been dumping unwanted items in.

“No way, Bones, you're not throwing those away.  You're clearly passionate about poetry.  I'd like you to keep them, and maybe you can read me some of your favorites sometime.”

“Really?  Jim Kirk wants me to read him poetry?  The world really is a strange place.”

But McCoy let him take the books and stack them in a suitcase.  He really was quite attached to the works, so he was glad Jim was the one to insist on saving them.

\--

That night when Jocelyn, Joanna and Dave got home from the store, they all sat around the dining room table and had an awkward dinner of Chinese takeout and forced conversation.

“I figured I'm going to be doing so much cooking tomorrow, I would just pick up something simple for tonight,” Jocelyn smiled, laying out takeout boxes on the lazy-Susan in the center of the table.  Somehow even this simple act made her look like a beautiful domestic Goddess, feeding her family with a loving hand.  She always had the whole sun-kissed-Southern-housewife thing down to a T, McCoy thought.

“You deserve one night off from cooking, honey,” Dave laughed, deep and booming, coming up from behind Jocelyn and placing a hand on her waist and a kiss to the top of her head.  McCoy served himself some chow mein and fried chicken and said nothing.

Joanna sat between her mother and father and swung her legs, sitting on a pillow so that she could reach the table.  She struggled for a few moments with her chopsticks, and then set one down on her napkin and began stabbing bits of chicken with the other and popping them into her mouth.  Jocelyn pursed her lips and whispered _“Joanna, don’t…”_ while everyone else laughed.  Jim reached over across McCoy and took Joanna’s chopsticks in his own hand.  “Look, it’s easy,” he said, stealing a bite of her noodles.  She giggled.  “It hurts my hand when I try,” she complained.

Jim got out of his seat and walked over behind her, slipping the utensils into her grip and molding her tiny fingers into the correct position.  “Try that.”  She did, and although her technique was still shaky, she managed to take a few bites without dropping anything.  “There you go,” Jim encouraged, pleased with himself.  He sat back down and grinned at McCoy, who raised his eyebrows.  He should have known Jim would be good with kids, along with being good at everything else, that bastard.  Jim even offered to wash the dishes after they had all finished, but Jocelyn shooed him away.  She never let anyone help her in the kitchen, mostly for fear that everything would be done wrong if not done by her.  It was her domain, and she guarded it with her life.  

So Jim and McCoy retired to the old study, although it was scarcely after eight, because the idea of having another round of awkward chit-chat in the sitting roomed seemed akin to torture.  McCoy heard Jocelyn and Dave turn on the TV from the other room, talking and laughing happily over it, and supposed that their evening would be better off as well.  

The issue of the bed -- namely, the fact that there was only one -- had not yet been addressed, but it was already giving McCoy reason to be anxious.  He thought it would be strange and impolite to ask Jim to sleep on the floor, but he didn’t particularly want to, either.  There was hardly room for one person on the tiny bit of floor space between the bed and the bookshelf anyway, and the wood floors could get really cold this time of year.  Since it was so early in the evening, he pushed it to the back of his mind and found a deck of cards for the two of them to play with to pass away the hours until they were forced to talk about the sleeping arrangements.  They played several rounds of Go Fish, which was one of their defaults, because it was fun and easy and didn’t require much thought.

“Go fish,” Jim said a few hours later, from his place where he sat cross-legged on the opposite end of the bed from McCoy, who leaned against the headboard and took a card from the deck.  He looked through the cards in his hand thoughtfully.  Before he could ask if Jim had any nines, Jim said “It’s weird doing this without a bottle of bourbon between us, like usual.”

“Yeah, but I doubt being drunk would make this visit any easier than doing it sober,” McCoy blurted out in response, before he could stop himself.

Jim appraised him from over the top of his hand of cards, looking concerned.  “How...how are you feeling, about the whole thing, with Dave being here and everything?”

McCoy set his cards face down on the bed and sighed, placing a hand to his temple.  He supposed it was inevitable that they would discuss this eventually, although he would have preferred that they pretend they were back in the dorm, with nothing to worry about but the next morning’s Early Starfleet History exam or something.  “Well, probably how you’d expect I’d be feeling,” he answered.  “Not thrilled.”

“Yeah, I guess I could tell that much…” Jim set down his cards as well, giving McCoy his full attention.  “I mean, he seems nice at least.  Like a good person to have around Joanna, not like some dead beat alcoholic or someth --”

He stopped short, clearly realizing  his mistake.  McCoy looked down at the bed and fiddled with his hands.

“Bones…” Jim’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “I didn’t mean it like that...I just meant, you know, she could’ve ended up with someone dangerous, someone like Frank.  It’s good at least that she’s found someone responsible.”

McCoy tried to brush it off, but felt a lump rising in his throat as all his feelings of jealousy and inferiority surfaced.  “I just wish  _I_ could have given her stability and responsibility, and everything.”

“You _did_.  You’re a great dad, Bones.  I had that confirmed today, if I had any doubts about it before, which I didn’t.  Look, you had a good job, you were a good provider, but the marriage just wasn’t right, okay?  She’s the one who cheated on _you,_ if you want to talk about stability.”

McCoy picked up his cards and set them on the nightstand, laying back on the bed and saying “I think I’ve had enough Go Fish for tonight, Jim.”

Jim cleaned up the rest of the cards and lay down on his side, facing McCoy.  Even given his current emotional state, the action made his breath hitch and his pulse speed up a little.

“Joanna loves you,” Jim pressed on.  “She was so happy to see you.  That’s all that matters.  Dave doesn’t matter.”

McCoy nodded silently.  He knew Jim meant well, but the situation with Dave was not a pleasant one and not one he had been prepared for, and nothing Jim said was going to change that.  Now the floodgates had been opened, though, and McCoy started rambling like he had a tendency to do.

“Dave looks like he’s about eighteen...but distinguished, at the same time, like he’s in his thirties.  And he’s too nice.  He should be hating me, shouldn’t he?  His girlfriend’s ex?  He’s in law school, Jim.  He’s like 6’4 with perfect hair and really white teeth.  How could I _not_ be feeling bad about myself right now?”

Jim cracked a smile at that, and reached a hand over to brush some hair out of McCoy’s face.  “Perfect hair...” he scoffed, “and white teeth?  That’s what you’re worried about?  Bones…”

Jim was just staring at him intently, like he was searching for words.  He shook his head.

“What?” McCoy whispered self-consciously.

“I wish you didn’t always see yourself in such a bad light.  You’re really good looking, you know.  And you’re a lot of other things.  Like honest, and brave, and smart and...I don’t know, just...everything.  I wish you could see it.”

McCoy shifted uncomfortably.  This was ridiculous.  He was in his ex-wife’s house, feeling bad about her new boyfriend, while laying in bed with his best friend and current object of affection, who was complimenting him and making heat rise in his cheeks like a silly schoolgirl.

“Well...thanks.” He tried to think of some witty comeback, but he genuinely appreciated how much Jim seemed to value him, and he didn’t want to make light of that.  It was a welcome change, and a novel idea, that someone recognized him for all of his good traits and not just the bad.   _And_ Jim had called him good looking, but he tried not to dwell on that.

Jim yawned and glanced over at the clock on their bedside table.  It was just after eleven  now, and although both of them were used to staying up late and working crazy hours well into the night, it had been a long day.  “We should probably go to bed, make sure we’re well rested for tomorrow.”  

McCoy yawned in agreement, and clambered under the covers as Jim followed suit.  It turned out to be a completely natural progression of events...they just sort of fell into bed together, rather than having a big awkward conversation about who should sleep where.  

Nonetheless, McCoy lay there in the dark painfully aware of Jim’s body heat radiating like a space heater, and the sounds of his breathing even closer than in the dorm.  McCoy usually tossed and turned a lot before he got comfortable, but tonight he was purposefully lying rigid, trying desperately not to brush his foot up against Jim’s leg or anything.

He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep until Jim did.  He was entirely too self aware, and the conversation they had had just before bed was playing over and over in his head.  Jim saying he was honest and brave.  Jim brushing his hair out of his eyes.  Jim helping Joanna with her chopsticks.  It was all too much.

After about ten minutes, Jim rolled over and sighed loudly. _“Bones,”_ he whispered.

_“What?”_

_“I can’t sleep...”_ he whined.

_“You haven’t even tried for more than a few minutes.”_

_“I think you should read me one of those poems.”_

McCoy rose his voice to its normal pitch and turned on the bedside lamp to stare at Jim.  “Right now?  You can’t be serious.”

Jim was giving him his most obnoxiously dazzling smile, the one with a hint of a laugh behind it, like he knew he was being ridiculous but he also knew McCoy wouldn’t deny him.

“Come on, just read me one.  Which one’s your favorite?”

McCoy rolled his eyes but threw the covers off of him, getting up and opening his suitcase, where Jim had stacked the poetry books.  “I have a lot of favorites, but there are a few that have always really stood out to me.”  He knelt down and rifled through the stack of paperbacks, picking up the E. E. Cummings collection and skimming the table of contents.  “It may not be as exciting as porn, but I think you might like this one…”

Jim scooted up against the headboard expectantly, patting the space on the bed next to him to get McCoy to lay back down and read, which he did.  They settled back into their places, the room now bathed in warm lamplight, and Jim leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder to get a good look at what he was reading.  McCoy hoped that the proximity wouldn’t enable Jim to hear his heart’s erratic rhythm.  He took a somewhat shaky breath and began to [read.](http://padfootlestrange.tumblr.com/post/64160451571/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-a-poem-by-e-e)

Maybe he was just being stupid and over emotional as usual, but as he read the lines he found them oddly appropriate, and struggled to keep his voice even as the meanings sunk in. _Anywhere I go you go._  He and Jim were so inseparable at this point…he hadn’t even been able to bear the thought of leaving Jim alone for the five days of their break. _I carry your heart with me._  He had moved past the point, in his stupid little crush, of pure sexual frustration and straight ahead to the point of finding resonance in old poetry.  Wonderful.

Jim’s eyes scanned the page, reading with him, listening intently.  When he finished the poem, Jim hummed contentedly.  “That was pretty.  I can see why you like these old poems, even though, given the choice, I would still usually rather look at porn.”

McCoy playfully smacked him on the top of the head with the old book, laughing.  “To each their own, I guess.”  

“No, but really, that was cool.  You should read me another.”

McCoy flipped through the book and found another to read, and then another, and another.  He read until his voice felt hoarse and Jim was dozing off, head lolling and ending up resting more on McCoy’s chest than his shoulder.  He could feel Jim’s breath hot on his neck, and his knees jabbed into his hip as he curled up under the covers like a small child, but he didn’t mind.  He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t bother shoving Jim off and back onto his own pillow.  He just set the book down and clicked the light off, laying back and revelling in the feeling of the weight against his chest.  He knew that this moment would later haunt him and cause him dreadful embarrassment and anxiety, but he didn’t care.  Sometimes, he thought, you have to live for the small moments that bring you awe and wonder, regardless of what the eventual outcome will be.  He knew that they would go home, and he would return to his studies, and Jim would sleep with a dozen different women every week; but Jim made him feel alive, and that was all that mattered at this very moment. _This is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem I used in the chapter, and also the namesake of this fic, is "[I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry it in]" by E. E. Cummings. For those who prefer to read rather than listen, the text is here: http://padfootlestrange.tumblr.com/post/60281769069
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's one of my very favorites!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, everyone! I've been too busy to reply to them all, but really, I appreciate them so much! They're what keeps me going :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving passes, Jim and Bones bond with Joanna, and Jim has an interesting conversation with Jocelyn.

Thanksgiving preparations were fully underway, and Jim _loved_ it.  He loved the smell of roasting turkey and an assortment of pies baking in different stages, so that the house was never lacking in delicious aromas.  He loved playing board games with Bones and Joanna on the living room floor in front of the fire while Jocelyn was busy in the kitchen.  He loved how seriously Bones took it when he cheated at Monopoly, and how Joanna laughed and laughed while they bickered about it.  Bones’ family may be broken, but it didn’t feel like it today.  There was enough love and laughter in the house to make up for Jim’s entire childhood.  

Dave politely kept to himself for most of the day, skimming the news on his PADD or watching a football game on TV, clearly conscious of the fact that this was Bones’ day with Joanna and being careful not to step on his toes.  Jim had to give him credit for that.

When it was nearing dinner time, Jim and Bones went to change into nicer clothes.  Bones helped Jim with his tie, expertly knotting it in a series of quick motions that Jim couldn’t quite follow.  “There,” Bones said, tightening the knot and smoothing out the fabric, “all ready to make a good impression.  As if you haven't already.”

“I try,” Jim smiled, and then after a pause, “Wait, what have I done?”

Bones laughed.  “You’ve done absolutely nothing, as usual.  You’re just naturally charming and magnetic.”

“Am I?  Hmm, I’ll have to store that little compliment away, for when I forget to pick up my dirty socks from the floor of the dorm and you’re calling me things like _uncivilized_ and _disgusting_.”

Bones rolled his eyes and shoved Jim out the door, to the dinner table where a beautiful array of steaming dishes sat around the perfectly golden turkey, and Jocelyn was smiling proudly at her handiwork.

They all sat around the table and raved about the dinner, which made Jocelyn glow with happiness.  Dave made a toast to Bones and Jim being with them for the holiday, to which even Bones raised his glass.  Dinner was over much too soon, and shortly afterwards Jim collapsed into bed, full and tired and happy, while Bones followed Joanna into her room to read her a bedtime story.  When Bones came into bed about an hour later, Jim was already half asleep, but he was vaguely aware of Bones climbing under the covers next to him, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder and sighing deeply.  

“Feeling better about things today?” Jim mumbled into Bones’ hair.

“Yeah,” Bones sighed.  “I am.”

\--

Bones perhaps had been less angsty on Thanksgiving simply for the reason that it was so ingrained in him to be happy, thankful and loving on that day.  Jim thought that maybe Bones was coming to terms with Dave, or at least, doing his best at ignoring him.  They were both avoiding each other like the plague, Bones for the sake of his own sanity, and Dave because he silently acknowledged the weirdness of the situation and seemed aware of the fact that Bones would do better if given enough space.  

Every now and then, Dave would say something utterly clueless, like when he mentioned a recent trip he had taken Joanna on to visit his extended family, or when he casually used endearing nicknames for Joanna such as ‘Jo’ or ‘Sweetie.’  Bones would clench his jaw, take a deep breath, and keep quiet.  At any rate, Jim was glad that Bones seemed to be enjoying the visit for the most part, and that he hadn’t yet had an outright emotional outburst in response to anything Dave had said.

Over the next two days, Jocelyn had to work and Dave had classes, which meant that Jim and Bones had to figure out how to entertain the restless six-year-old, which was not an easy feat.  

“I’m bored.  Daddy, I’m bored.  I’m so bored!”  Joanna whined over and over, sitting in Bones’ lap and tugging at his sleeve.  “What are we doing today?”

“I don’t know, sweetie, that’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Bones replied, scrolling through event listings for Atlanta on his PADD.  Jim stood behind them, resting his hands on the back of the couch where they were sitting and leaning forward to read over Bones’ shoulder.

“Legoland?” Jim suggested, pointing at a link.  He was met with two incredulous stares.

Bones raised an eyebrow.  “Lots of tiny pieces precariously stacked together, and an overeager six-year-old who’s been cooped up in the house for three days?  I think not.”

“Legos are for boys,” Joanna whined.

“Okay, okay, nevermind,” Jim threw his hands in the air defensively.

“How about the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum?” Bones asked.

“Boring,” Joanna and Jim answered in unison, and then looked at each other and high-fived, giggling.  

“The aquarium?” All three of them said at the same time, pointing to a picture of a shark linking to the homepage of the Georgia Aquarium.

And so the aquarium it was.  Jocelyn had carpooled with Dave and left them her car for the weekend, so Bones drove them into Atlanta and they were soon walking along tunnel like hallways with plexiglass windows and looking into large tanks.  There was a large orange octopus with huge buggy eyes that creeped Jim out, scuttling crabs pressing their claws against the glass,  tanks full of things like jellyfish, stingrays, swordfish, and the like.  He had often pondered how odd it was that in this century, with hundreds of alien species not only known to man but cohabitating the planet, that some of the most foreign looking creatures came from their own oceans.

Joanna’s favorite was a room with a huge shallow tank, close to the ground and with no top, which kids were crowded around and were allowed to reach their hands in and explore the strange textures of anemones, starfish and sea cucumbers.  She reached her hand in tentatively at first, extending her fingertips to a big green anemone and then shrieking, pulling her hand back and smiling.  She grew more eager after that, feeling all sorts of creatures and delighting in the thrill.  Bones dared Jim to reach his hand in the tank, but Jim was being squeamish about it.

“Oh my God, Jim” Bones laughed, “If you’re planning to be the captain of a ship someday, you’re going to be facing a lot more dangerous things than a bunch of sea cucumbers.”

“I know, but they look all...slimey.”

Bones shook his head and rolled his eyes, grabbing Jim’s arm and pulling him over to the tank.  He dragged Jim’s hand into the cool water and molded his fingers with his own, so that both of them could run their hands over the creatures together.  The sticky-rough arms of the anemone surprised him, and he pulled his arm back sharply and shrieked louder than Joanna had.  Bones’ eyes crinkled and he laughed fully and genuinely at Jim’s antics, Joanna soon joining in.  

“I’m glad you guys find me so amusing,” Jim shot back at them, but he was smiling too.

After that, just before they left, they went to visit the shark tunnel.  The whole tunnel had a dome-like ceiling, and was entirely made of plexiglass, so that they could see various breeds of sharks swimming above them and on all sides.  It was eerily beautiful.  Joanna led them to the middle of the hall and lay down smack in the center of the floor, and then pat the spaces on either side of her to invite Jim and Bones to lay down, too.

“It looks coolest from this angle,” she explained.  They complied, ignoring the dirty glances of passersby who now had to take a detour around them, and lay down on either side of Joanna.  They watched the ethereal creatures swirling above them in peaceful silence for a while, and then Joanna turned her head toward her dad and reached up to take his hand.

“Dad?"

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you could come here for Thanksgiving.”

“Me too, sweetie,” he beamed.

Then she turned to the other side and took Jim’s hand.  He squeezed her tiny fingers, slightly surprised.

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad daddy brought you with him.  I like you.”

“I like you too,” he grinned down at her.

She looked back up at the ceiling, and Jim and Bones shared a look then.  There were a lot of things going through Jim’s mind, like how happy he was that Joanna accepted him, how happy he was that Bones was getting this time with his daughter, and how he and Bones made a pretty good team.  They were like an odd, mismatched and slightly broken little family, the three of them.

When they got back home that evening and Jocelyn asked them if they had had fun, Bones glanced over at Jim before replying, “The most fun I’ve had all year.”  

\--

On the last evening of their visit, Jim was in the old study packing up his things.  He wasn’t sure where Bones has disappeared to, but he figured he was off somewhere with Joanna, savoring their last hours together.  He went ahead and packed up all of Bones’ things as well.

As he was neatly folding up one of Bones’ button down shirts, there was a soft knock at the door.  He opened it to find Jocelyn, the last person he expected to see.  She was looking down, awkwardly fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist.  “Uh, hi,” Jim answered lamely.  

She looked up at him, brows knit together and lips pursed.  She was not at all her usual calm, collected and confident self.  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she addressed.  “I’ve wanted to say it for a few days now, but I wasn’t sure how, and...well, I guess a good place to start would be to ask if I can come in.”

He stepped aside and motioned her into the room, closing the door behind her.  He hadn’t the faintest idea what she could want to talk to him about that was obviously causing her some sort of distress, and briefly wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had done something wrong.  

She sat down on the bed without waiting for an invitation, and Jim stood awkwardly across from her in front of one of the tall bookshelves, hands shoved in his pockets.

“As I’m sure you know,” she began, “these last few months have been very trying for Leonard and I.  The decision to press him for a divorce really was not easy, you know, but both of us had been so unhappy for so long.  And I really believe things will get better.  Things are better for me, now, with Dave, but Leonard is…he’s not that resilient.  He’s strong in a lot of ways, but as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he takes some things too much to heart.  He was completely broken over the divorce.  His self esteem was completely shot.”

_Yeah, because you fucking cheated on him_.  Jim was growing more and more confused.  After a pause, he cleared his throat and said “Uh, Jocelyn, I’m not sure why you’re telling me these things --”

“I’m telling you,” she interrupted, “because I want you to know that the Leonard McCoy who left my doorstep last summer for a shuttle to Starfleet Academy was not the same Leonard McCoy who showed up here for Thanksgiving break a few days ago.  The last time I saw him, he was miserable, wallowing, depressed.  He was dirty and unshaven and had really let himself go.  I was afraid he wasn’t going to bounce back, he was _that_ distraught.  Then he showed up here, last Wednesday, and I could tell that something had shifted within him.  Obviously he’s been taking better care of himself; he’s been shaving and wearing clean clothes, and the bags under his eyes are less noticeable.  He looks healthier, happier.  He’s surly and intolerant, but that’s nothing new,” she laughed.  “And I know he’s probably been having a hard time accepting the fact that I’m dating Dave, but…I can just tell, he’s so much happier now.  Like with Joanna, he’s  so much more attentive and gentle, or when you and him are just sitting together on the sofa and you make some joke, and he rolls his eyes and laughs…”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Jim smiled.  Naturally, the more time that passed since the divorce, the happier Bones would become.  He still didn’t know why she was making such a big production of telling him.

“No, I don’t think you quite understand,” she pressed on, growing restless and fidgeting more than ever.  “It’s…well, I don’t know if I should say this.”

“Go on,” Jim urged, “I’m getting really confused here.”

“It’s just that...the way he looks at you, it’s...it’s the way I used to wish he’d look at me.  He _adores_ you, Jim.  You’ve ignited something in him that I never could, and you’ve made him so happy.  I’m grateful for that.  I know he’s my ex husband, but I really do want him to be happy, even if we couldn’t be happy together.  It’s hard to admit, but he deserves...more than I could give him.  And he seems to make you happy, too, so I’m glad you found each other.”

Jim just stared at her, arms crossed, truly baffled and at a loss for words.  “Bones -- _Leonard_ and I, we’re not, uh, _together_.  I mean, if that’s what you were trying to imply.”

“I know you’re not.  Not yet anyway.  But,” she hesitated, smiling tentatively up at him, “have you ever considered the possibility?”

“Of what?  Of _dating_ Bones, my roommate?  My best friend?”

She nodded, and it almost seemed like she was holding back a laugh.  “Jim, honey...just pay a little more attention, and you’ll see what I mean.  Half the time, Leonard looks at you like he can’t live without you, and the other half he’s undressing you with his eyes.”

Jim wasn’t usually one to blush, but the room suddenly felt insanely hot and he wondered briefly if the house was on fire.  His mouth went dry.  “I -- he -- _what?"_

“Oh, dear, I’ve embarrassed you...I’m so sorry.  I probably shouldn’t have opened my mouth.”  She gave him an apologetic look and stood, smoothing out the folds in her skirt and turning to leave.

Before she could open the door, Bones burst into the room, startling when he saw Jocelyn.  “Am...I interrupting anything?” he raised his eyebrows.

“No, I just came to make sure Jim didn’t need any help packing, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Bones replied dubiously, but didn’t pry.  Jocelyn left and Bones sat down on the bed.  Jim sat next to him, trying to erase any indication his face might have given of the awkward exchange he had just had.  The phrase _undressing you with his eyes_ kept playing through his head.

“Well, I think I’ve got us all packed and ready,” he spoke to avoid an awkward silence.  His heart was pounding and he couldn’t explain why.  

“Good, good.  Thanks for taking care of that.”

“Sure.”  Now his palms were sweating and he couldn’t think of anything to say, and he _always_ had something clever to say.  He shot Bones a glance and was met with the most incredulous look he’d ever seen.

“Are you alright Jim?  I’ve got a real strange feeling like I’ve missed something.”  

“You’re not...I mean...I don’t know, honestly.”  He sighed, rubbing his forehead.  “Let’s go check the shuttle schedule one more time and make sure we’re catching the right one tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Bones trailed off, eyebrows knit together.  

\--

The next morning, Jim and Bones woke early and planned to slip out quietly without waking anyone, but to their surprise, Jocelyn, Joanna and even Dave were already up and waiting at the kitchen table for them when they dragged their luggage out of their bedroom.  They all stood, and Joanna spent a long time hugging Bones and then Jim, half-crying into their coats and mumbling about how it wasn’t fair that they had to go so soon.  Dave shook each of their hands in turn, saying “It was really good to meet you both.”

Bones awkwardly extended his hand to Jocelyn, nodding somberly, but she ignored it and hugged him, albeit a stiff and clumsy hug.  Surprised, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and patted her back a few times.  She did the same to Jim, who couldn’t meet her eyes after their conversation from the previous night, but returned her hug all the same.

As they headed out the door, Jocelyn called after them “I hope to see you both again soon!” and Jim wondered if he imagined the emphasis on the word _both_.

\--

On the shuttle ride home, Jim thanked Bones for taking him along, and Bones cleared his throat and said “I couldn’t have done it without you."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but here it is! Thank you for reading, and thank you for the comments and kudos :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try as he might, he could not stay broken. Not with Jim around.

Leaving Georgia was harder than McCoy had thought it would be.  He could try to blow it off, say that it had been a nice visit but that he was glad to be back at school...but no one would believe him.  He could count the times he had left Georgia on one hand: When he left for college the year he turned eighteen, when he left after the divorce to enlist in Starfleet, and now.  He almost wished he hadn’t gone at all, and perhaps he wouldn’t have if he had realized how painful coming back would be.

He’d been doing really well while they were there -- had the time of his life, in fact.  Having Jim there with him made the whole thing bearable.  But now that he was back, now that he had these recent memories of his old house filled with such love and happiness, his loneliness was somehow intensified.  He could picture exactly what he was missing out on at any given moment -- Joanna sitting with Jocelyn and Dave at the kitchen table in the morning, eating her cheerios, while McCoy sipped cold coffee in his Interspecies Ethics lecture; the three of them talking happily over dinner and talking about their days, while McCoy microwaved day-old cafeteria food and waited for Jim to get home; Joanna getting into bed without him there to tuck her in, possibly with Dave having taken over this job, while McCoy worked the nightshift at the clinic.  

He also missed the intimacy, whether imagined or not, that he and Jim had shared over Thanksgiving break.  He missed Jim in his bed, warm and soft and showing no qualms about personal space, and spending every moment of every day together.  Now the space between their beds in the dorm seemed to stretch for miles, and they were back to their usual hectic schedules of school and work, which gave them a lot less time to hang out and do nothing.

So he sunk back into the final couple of weeks of the term, melancholy and missing his daughter more than ever.  He buried himself in homework, searching for a distraction from the pain, and when that failed, he passed out drunk on his bed and enjoyed a blissful few hours of sleep each night before waking again to a throbbing head and a hollow heart.

Jim sometimes invited him to go out with a group of people for drinks or dinner, which he sometimes did, but it wasn’t the same as having Jim all to himself for five whole days, like he had during their break.  Part of him wished Jim didn’t have so many friends, so that he could have the kid’s full attention all the time.  Selfish, maybe.  Pathetic, definitely.  But he couldn’t help it.

So on Thursday night when Jim went out for pizza with a bunch of his command-track friends, McCoy declined the invitation and instead sat, holed up at his desk, typing away at his dreaded end of term paper for his Interspecies Ethics class.  He had been procrastinating for a while, and he promised himself that this would be the night he really finished it.  But as soon as Jim left, he found himself completely unable to concentrate, words swimming off the screen.  Was Jim having fun without him?  More fun than he would if McCoy was there?  Were there any pretty girls in the group?  Would Jim be coming home tonight?  His mind raced, and as always, he kept finding more and more things to fret about.  What was Joanna doing right now?  Did she miss him like he missed her?  Or was she getting so close to Dave that she didn’t think about him anymore?

He tried to add a few more sentences to his essay. _The Klingon culture, however, is more concerned with..._ but he kept losing his train of thought, staring out the window or up at the ceiling, worrying about everything and nothing all at once.  His eyes flicked to the bottle of bourbon on the counter.  One glass, perhaps.  One glass could clear his mind and help him relax just enough to finish his stupid essay.  He walked over to the counter and poured himself a tiny glass, watering it down to make it go further.  

He didn’t stop at one.

\--

“Bones?  Oh, no…”

Jim’s voiced roused McCoy from his spot where he sat slumped over, head lolled over on a stack of textbooks on his desk.  He had passed out there a few hours ago, whether from tiredness or alcohol it was hard to discern.  

“Hmm?” he lifted his head groggily.

“Bones, you gotta take care of yourself, man.  You make me not wanna leave you alone anymore, if this is what I’m gonna come home to.”  Jim walked over and picked up the significantly emptier bottle of bourbon, taking it to the counter and setting it down with a loud thud.

“‘M fine, don’t worry ‘bout it….” McCoy grunted, getting up from his seat and stumbling over to his bed.

“No, don’t do the ‘I’m fine’ thing.  I really want to make sure you’re okay.”  Jim followed him over to the bed and sat down next to him, frowning.  “I shouldn’t have left you alone tonight.  I should’ve known, Jesus.  You’ve been in a rut ever since we came back from Georgia.”

McCoy sat on the edge on his bed and leaned forward, head in hands, feeling queasy and drunk and horrible.  “I can’t turn off my thoughts,” he complained to his own lap.  “‘Been tryin’ to finish the same damned essay since we got home...thought a drink would clear my head….”

“Bones, come on, you should just comm Joanna if you miss her so much.  She’d love to get a call from you, I’m sure.”  

“‘Didn’t say anything about Joanna....”  Stupid Jim figured everything out eventually.

“No, but the picture of you and her is gone from its frame, and I know you’re carrying it around in your back pocket.  And this is not the first time this week I’ve come home to you drunk, not in the usual way, but in the miserable depressed way.”  

“Usually you wouldn’t care; you’d pour yourself a glass and join me.”

Jim continued, almost inaudibly, “Jocelyn said that you seemed happier...I don’t want you to sink back to how it was before….”

“Jocelyn said what?”

“Nothing, nevermind.  Just.  I need you to be happy.  I need you to snap out of it.”

Resigned and too tired and drunk to argue, McCoy nodded.  “I’ll try.”

Jim placed a hand on his back.  “Thank you.  We’ll comm Joanna tomorrow, together, okay?  And then you’ll sober up, go to the library and finish that essay.”

McCoy nodded again.  Jim stood, presumably to get into his own bed, but McCoy tugged at his sleeve, looking up to meet blue eyes filled with care and worry.  He couldn’t find the words, so he just tried to convey everything he felt wordlessly. _It’s not just Joanna,_ he thought.   _I miss you too.  I miss whatever happened between us over break._

Somehow, Jim understood what he wanted, and after bending down to remove his shoes, he clambered back onto McCoy’s bed and wrapped strong arms around his waist to pull them both down onto the pillows.  Jim nuzzled into McCoy’s hair and mumbled, “you smell like booze and day-old clothes.  You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“I like messes.”

“I like you.”  

“You’re drunk.  If you were sober right now, you’d kick me out of this bed in a heartbeat.”

_Ha,_ McCoy thought.  As if having Jim in his bed wasn’t exactly what he wanted every second of every day.  There was nothing sexually charged about this, though.  This was just Jim, taking care of him, being way more kind and patient than McCoy deserved.  Gratitude filled his chest and he allowed himself to push his guilt away and just feel the loveliness of their proximity for a moment, of Jim’s heart beating in his chest, pressed up against McCoy’s back. _I carry your heart with me._

“You take such good care of me,” he mumbled.

“Someone’s got to.  You’ve dedicated your whole life to taking care of other people.  It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, shut up.  You’re so drunk.  I always said you were a sappy drunk.  Just sleep.”

“Okay.”

\--

McCoy awoke to sunlight streaming in from the window on the far side of the room, warm and comfortable in a mess of tangled limbs.  They hadn’t moved much since the previous night, he realized, although they had somehow made their way under the covers.  But McCoy still lay closest to the nightstand, curled in the fetal position, with Jim between his body and the wall, head resting on McCoy’s back and molded perfectly to him, arms around his waist.  They were basically _spooning_ , a fact which McCoy hoped Jim had enough decency not to point out.  

But when Jim started stirring a few minutes later, of course the first thing he said, voice hoarse and full of sleep, was, _“Bones.  You’re the little spoon.”_

And then he started giggling, _giggling_ , like a little kid, laughter vibrating throughout his body so that McCoy could feel as well as hear it.  

“Oh, my God,” McCoy muttered, turning his face into his pillow.  “You are an infant.”  With his head buried in the bed where Jim couldn’t see, he smiled to himself.  This kind of interaction was exactly what he had so missed about their vacation.  

Jim propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at McCoy, who rolled back over and tried to compose himself so that his friend wouldn’t see him grinning like an idiot.  It was hard to contain, though, since Jim was all rumpled and adorable, hair sticking up all funny and still in yesterday’s clothes.  He cleared his throat.  “Well, uh, sorry.  About last night.”

“No, no apologies allowed.  Everyone has bad nights, weeks, whatever.  I’m just glad I came home when I did.”

“ _You_ don’t have bad days.”

“Yeah, well...I left my bad days back in Iowa and never looked back.  You’ll see me at my ugly, horrible worst though, I’m sure.  Just hang in there a little longer.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Good.”

They lay there for a while in silence, McCoy staring up at the ceiling and humming some old tune and Jim tracing patterns into the sheets with his fingertips.  Then Jim leapt up and announced he was going to make coffee to help McCoy with his ‘inevitable headache.’  His head was indeed throbbing as expected, but the pain was softened by the fact that his heart was not as heavy as it had been every other morning since they’d returned from Georgia.  Try as he might, he could not stay broken.  Not with Jim around.

\--

“Finished the goddamned essay,” McCoy came bustling through the sliding doors to the dorm a few hours later, carrying a massive stack of textbooks and slamming them down on his desk.  Jim was sitting cross legged on his bed, holding his PADD.  McCoy rambled on, “My Interspecies Ethics professor is a fuckin’ bastard, let me tell you --”

“Bones, _language_ ,” Jim cut him off, smiling and gesturing at the PADD in his lap.  He looked down at the device and grinned.  “Yeah, he’s back now.  I’ll hand him over.  It was nice talking to you, Jo.”  

_Oh._  Jim had set up a video call.  McCoy felt like he should be annoyed that Jim hadn’t warned him, but it was undeniably touching.  Jim brought the PADD over to the kitchen table and propped it up on its little stand, and gestured for McCoy to sit.  He hurried over to sit at the table, and was greeted by his daughter’s beautiful smiling face from the screen. _“Daddy!”_ she squealed.  

Jim clapped him on the back, and then grabbed a magazine and went off to lie on his bed in an attempt to give his friend as much privacy as possible given their tiny quarters.  McCoy nodded at him, trying to convey his thanks, and then returned his attention to Joanna.  “Hi, baby girl.  How’ve you been?  What’s happened since I saw you last?”

_“Tons of stuff, dad.  I missed you so much.  It feels really weird with you being gone again.”_

He looked down at his lap, and then back up at the screen, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  “I know what you mean, kid.”  

Jim looked up and smiled over at him, surely noticing the cracking of his voice and the falter in his usually steady composure.  Bones didn’t even care anymore, really.  What had Jim not seen, at this point?  So he motioned Jim back over, and pulled a chair up next to him, adjusting the PADD so that he and Jim were both in Joanna’s line of vision.  

“Go on sweetie, tell us what’s been going on at school and at home.  We both miss you so much.”

She grinned and launched into all kinds of stories of friends and adventures on the playground, and homework assignments, and books she’d read, and the tooth she’d lost.  Jim and McCoy listened and _oohed_ and _ahhed_ at the right times, trying to be the perfect audience.  A couple of hours later, Jocelyn appeared on the screen, collecting Joanna to take her to bed.  Jocelyn greeted them briefly and then leaned in to press a button, and the screen went dark.  

Jim nudged McCoy’s knee with his own, and McCoy nudged him back.  “Thanks for that.  You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he rested his head on McCoy’s shoulder.  “But it’s what you needed.”

“Yeah,” McCoy sighed in agreement.   _You are._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim learns that Interesting things can happen when you find yourself drunk, bloodied and bruised in the campus clinic after hours.

Jim didn’t have to work Saturdays, but he often went to the pub anyway just to hang out.  He would meet a group of his friends from the command track and a couple of his co-workers, and they would crowd into a corner booth and laugh and drink and let off all the steam that had built in them from the school week.  

Since Bones didn’t have any interest in building his own group of friends, Jim would usually drag him along.  Jim would have one too many beers and start telling (admittedly elaborate) stories of bar fights or car chases or other heroic adventures from his youth, and Bones would sit next to him and interject sarcastic comments while everyone laughed.

“So at this point I’ve got three guys ganged up on me,”Jim was rambling to the bemused ears of his friends, “when the leader of their pack, this Klingon dude, shows up and starts giving me a hard time -- ”

“Nope, pretty sure he was just a regular angry human, not a Klingon, the first time he told this story --” Bones cut in.

“And I’m like ‘dude, I’m not gonna give them their money.  They promised me Romulan ale, and what’s in this bottle is just watered down whiskey.’  And that really pisses the Klingon off, so he grabs me by the shirt collar and hoists me off my feet, and I drop the bottle and it shatters --”

“There was no _hoisting_ of any kind, if I recall --”

“And I kick him right in the groin, and that shuts him up.  He drops me, and I make a grab for my wallet, which the other three guys took while the Klingon was holding me, and they’re holding it over my head.  So I do this roundhouse kick and knock all three of them out in one go, get my wallet and run --”

“ _They_ knocked _him_ out, so anything he says after this point is definitely false --”

“And the Klingon gets up and chases me like half of the way home, until I shake him off my heels  by taking an unexpected turn.  And I got home safely, wallet in my pocket, and never heard from them again.”

Bones rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, while everyone laughed and cheered and Jim pretended to bow.  Jim put his arm around Bones’ shoulders and grinned at him, saying, “Bones is just jealous that he hasn’t had as many thrilling adventures as I have.  But we’re working on changing that, aren’t we, Bonesy?”

“God, I hope not,” Bones play-shoved him.  

Jim wrapped both arms around his friend and said, “Don’t be fooled by his snarky exterior; he loves me a lot.  Or he puts up with me because he has to.  It’s hard to tell.”

“They’re processing my request to transfer dorms as we speak,” Bones joked, smiling.

Jim got up from his seat and asked who was up for another round.  A guy from his combat class, Hikaru, offered to come with him to help carry the drinks.  While they were waiting at the bar for their order, Hikaru turned to Jim and said, “You know, if you didn’t have a reputation as

the biggest player in school, I would swear that you and Dr. McCoy were a couple.”

The smile on Jim’s face faltered a little and he raised his eyebrows.  “Funny, someone else said something similar to me recently….”

“I’m not surprised,” Hikaru laughed.  “I mean, come on.  The continuous banter, the constant need for physical contact, the way he looks at you like he’d do anything for you...dude, I _wish_ someone would look at me like that.”

“But I...I like girls…” Jim argued feebly.

“C’mon, it’s the 23rd Century, Jim.  No one sticks themselves in such rigid boxes like ‘straight’ and ‘gay’ anymore.  All I know is that it’s not very often that real, genuine, unadorned love like that comes into your life, and you’d be pretty stupid not to jump on that.  I’m pretty sure he’d love to jump you, anyway.”  

Jim’s mouth went dry and he scrambled for an answer, but luckily he was saved by Gaila putting out two trays of drinks for them to carry back to their group.  He hoped she hadn’t overheard their conversation.

As they walked back to the group, Hikaru whispered “Some of us have started taking bets on who’s gonna make the first move.”

“Oh my God,” Jim hissed back, “Can we...not talk about this right now?  Or ever?”

Hikaru smiled apologetically and dropped the matter.  They returned to their booth and Jim stayed unusually quiet for the rest of the night.  When Bones nudged him and mouthed, “You okay?” he just nodded.  First what Jocelyn had said over Thanksgiving break, and now this...wasn’t it obvious that he was interested in girls, even if he was having a little dry spell for whatever reason?  And the way he and Bones interacted was totally normal...wasn’t it?  And why did everyone seem to think that Bones was just dying to sleep with him? _God._  His head was spinning, and not just because of the alcohol.

\--

They went to stand at the bus stop after last call ended at two.  Almost everyone from their group had either left a few hours earlier, or taken their cars back to campus, so Jim and Bones were left alone and shivering under the bus shelter in the cold winter air.

A big beefy guy came stumbling out of the bar, probably no older than Jim but twice his size and drunk beyond belief.  He staggered over to them, slurring “Bastards in the bar cut me off again, goddammit.”

“The bar is _closing_ , that’s why they kicked you out -- although looks like they should’ve cut you off a long time ago,” Jim observed.

“ _Jim_ ,” Bones groaned.

“What’d you say to me, dude?” the guy’s voice turned angry, and he walked closer to the bus shelter, face illuminated by the nearby street lamp.  “Don’t think I don’t know what I’m talking about.  They’re always trying to cut me off here, especially that green bitch.  I don’t know why I even come to this place.”

“Okay, that’s uncalled for,” Bones muttered.

Jim was getting annoyed now.  “Look, as a bartender at this very pub, I just hate to see people talking shit about us, because we’re just doing our job, and when someone’s drunk off their ass like you obviously are, they’re gonna cut you off.  Jerkface.”  

“Look, sir,” Bones cut in, placing a hand on Jim’s shoulder and trying to steer him away from the guy, “My friend here must be a little drunk as well, otherwise I don’t think he’d be trying to pick a fight.  Just go about your evening, and I’ll make sure my friend leaves you alone.”

The man was just glaring at Jim, hovering ominously over him. “You think I’m stupid, man?  You think I’m just some deadbeat drunk?  I could beat your ass, sober or not!”

“No ass-beating will be necessary--” Bones kept trying to smooth things over.

“Oh shut up, old man.  Go home and fuck yourself,” the guy shot back.  

Jim was really fucking mad now.  He lunged forward before Bones could stop him, catching the guy by surprise and grabbing him by the coat collar.  Fueled by adrenaline, Jim shoved the guy back several steps and then pinned him up against the wall of the pub.  

“Jim, _please!_ ” Bones shouted.  “Just walk away, goddammit!”

“You don’t fucking insult my roommate, okay buddy?  You’d do better just to stay away from this pub, if you can’t respect the staff and you just come in causing trouble.  Just fuck off.”

Inevitably, the guy punched him, and Jim punched back, and before he knew it _he_ was the one being pinned to the wall, suffering blow after blow after blow, desperately scrambling to get another hit in but failing.  The guy’s reflexes couldn’t have been great with all the alcohol in his system, but he was so much bigger than Jim that he kept him pinned there by sheer force and strength.

_Fucking hell...should’ve listened to Bones and just walked away_ , were his last thoughts before everything went dark.

\--

Jim came-to a few hours later, and the first thing he saw was the familiar white ceiling of the campus clinic, and then Bones’ face leaning over him, eyebrows knit severely together and then softening when he realized Jim was conscious.  Jim realized he was laying on one of the small hovering stretchers, white sheets tucked around him and a soft white pillow beneath his head.  

“You're an idiot,” were the first words out of Bones’ lips.

“He called you an old man.”

“I’ll be old and grey to boot if you keep me chasing after you all the time, making sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“At least you finally got to see one of my epic fights, huh?”

“A little less ‘epic’ than your stories would suggest,” Bones rolled his eyes.

Jim smiled, but it made his face hurt, so he stopped.  He probably had two black eyes and and a bloody lip, and who knows what else.  “What happened to the guy?” he asked.

“After he knocked you out, I gave him a hypo full of ambizine to sedate him.”

“First of all, you just happened to have that in your pocket?  And second, you couldn’t have given it to him _before_ he knocked me out?”

“A doctor is always prepared.  And shut up, it took me a few minutes to get it loaded with the correct drug.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bones sighed wearily.  

Jim looked around the clinic.  It was dark, save for one tiny lamp Bones had turned on, and oddly silent.  It was obviously after hours, which meant that technically they were supposed to visit the emergency room in Pacific Heights.  Having a doctor as your best friend had its perks, he supposed, but he couldn’t resist giving Bones a hard time about it.  “Are we even authorized to be in here?”

“Shhh, just hold still and let me take your vitals.”  Jim shut up while Bones ran his tricorder over him, and then started rubbing all kinds of salves and creams on the bruises and cuts on his face.  

Jim could still feel the alcohol in his system, mingled with leftover adrenaline from his fight.  Perhaps because of these things, or perhaps because of the ideas that had been planted in his head over the last few days by Jocelyn and then Hikaru, or perhaps because of something else entirely, he stared up at Bones fussing over him, and regarded him as he never had before.

_‘He looks at you like he’d do anything for you,'_   Hikaru had said.  Underneath the sharp sarcasm, and the intense concentration as he checked the readings of his tricorder, Bones’ big brown eyes revealed incredible amounts of kindness, attentiveness and affection.  Jim was well aware of the fact that he was the only person at this school who Bones really, genuinely cared about and wanted to spend time with -- actually, the only other person Jim had _ever_ seen Bones show the same level of affection for was Joanna.  But whether Bones really wanted to ‘jump’ him, as everyone seemed to think, Jim had no idea.

Regardless, Jim took a few moments and just admired Bones’ facial features.  There wasn’t much else to look at in the small clinic room, so he just lay there and mapped with his eyes the line of Bones’ strong jaw, and then the shape of his eyes, and the twist at the corner of his lips.  Soft looking hair, _God._  How did he make it look so soft?   _Maybe I should borrow his shampoo next time I’m in the shower_ , Jim thought.  But anyway, Jesus, Bones was just _gorgeous_ , and it wasn’t like Jim had never noticed, but his gorgeousness seemed to be amplified here, now, in the half-dark room with Bones leaning over him, soft fingertips gingerly brushing over the wounds on his face, taking care of him, fixing him up and making him whole again.

Jim sat up a little and reached one of his own hands up to his face to cover Bones’, where he was rubbing some clear gel on a bruise forming on Jim’s cheek.  Bones’ hand stilled and he stared down at Jim, meeting his eyes quizzically.

“You take such good care of me, Bones,” Jim whispered.

“You don’t give me much choice, kid,” he answered, a little breathlessly.  Maybe Jim was imagining things, but he thought he saw Bones run his tongue over his bottom lip then, almost nervously.  

_Fuck it,_ Jim thought, heart rate increasing substantially and scooting up the bed to bring his other hand around the back of Bones’ neck, pulling him in.  Bones took a sharp breath and his gaze was darting between Jim’s eyes and his mouth, one hand still held in place on Jim’s cheek and the other setting down the small tube of gel and coming to rest on his neck.

Suddenly, the unwelcome sound of Jim’s comm beeping from his pocket greeted their ears, and they both dropped their hands immediately, startled.  

Jim answered and Bones busied himself with putting his medical supplies back in their proper places.

“Uh…” Jim started, disorientedly opening his comm before remembering that he was supposed to say something.  “Kirk here.”

_“Jim, it’s Gaila.”_

“Hey, what’s up?”

_“Well I was just cleaning up after work, and I basically had to throw this huge, angry guy out of the bar -- seriously he was like 6’9 or something, and drunk like you wouldn’t believe -- and then when I left to catch the bus back to school, I found him unconscious on the ground by the bus stop.  And I would’ve just blown it off, I mean he was so drunk it’s no wonder he passed out, but then remembered that you and McCoy were probably waiting at the bus stop around the time that I threw him out, so I just wanted to ask if you had seen what happened?”_

Jim laughed.  “Uh, yeah, I know what happened.  I’ve got a black eye and another epic tale to tell you about.”  

He recounted the events as best he could, trying not to fabricate too much, and when he had satisfied her curiosity he hung up.  Bones was just sitting on his stool next to Jim’s stretcher, staring down at the floor.

“Um…” Jim started lamely, “We should...get back to the dorm, I guess.”

“Yeah….”

Jim was feeling terribly awkward and wondering what Bones must think of him.   _You big dumb idiot,_ he thought to himself. _Note to self:  Don’t take anything Hikaru Sulu says to heart ever again, and don’t get into drunken bar fights, and don’t try to kiss your best friend while laying in a hospital stretcher...and don’t try to kiss your best friend at all...and just go jump off a bridge because he probably thinks you’re a huge creep right now and wants nothing to do with you._

They walked back to the dorm in complete silence, and fell asleep without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who consistently gives me love and support as I write this fic, and thank you for being so sympathetic and understanding as I struggle to keep writing throughout my busy school schedule! I hope you all enjoy this one...things are starting to heat up ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As for the other events of that particular night, the two of them had pretty much avoided talking about anything that had happened after Jim had been knocked out. All the same, McCoy was pretty sure that he hadn't imagined whatever had passed between them in the clinic.

By the second week of December, finals week had already passed in a blur of stress and exams and all-nighters, and they were finally on Winter break.  Jim’s bruises were mostly healed, and the easy confidence with which he brushed off people’s questions about them irritated McCoy to no end.  

As for the other events of that particular night, the two of them had pretty much avoided talking about anything that had happened after Jim had been knocked out.  All the same, McCoy was pretty sure that he hadn’t imagined whatever had passed between them in the clinic, with Jim laying on the stretcher and McCoy leaning over him, and he couldn’t stop replaying the moment over and over in his mind.  

But Jim had been drunk, obviously.  The readings on McCoy’s tricorder could tell him how much alcohol was still in his system at the time, and it had been a lot.  That had to be the reason for what had happened.  Probably.

Still, as was the nature of their friendship, they sunk back into everyday life and comfortable banter and never mentioned the awkwardness of that night.  McCoy wondered if Jim even remembered it, but decided it would be better not to ask.  He didn’t want to look like a fool, if in fact he had somehow invented the whole thing in his head.

But, if he was being honest, it was really bugging him.  Before that night, he had reconciled his feelings for Jim to an extent by telling himself that Jim wasn’t, and would never be, interested in him.  He would get hung up on Jim’s perfect hair or full lips, and then he would quiet his mind by thinking _he’s not interested.  It’s not worth it.  Shut up._  In a way, this kept him just sane enough to get through the day.  But now he just wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Sometimes, they would be watching a movie, or he would be sitting at the bar while Jim served drinks, and he would think he saw Jim out of his peripheral vision, just staring at him intently.  He would snap his head up, and Jim would look away.

Also, Jim had always been tactile, but it seemed that perhaps his touches were becoming more frequent, more unnecessary, lingering longer.  He’d say “Bones, can I get you another drink?” and he’d place a hand on his arm.  “Bones, I’m cold,” he’d say while they lay on one of their beds and watched a movie, and he’d tuck his toes under McCoy’s legs and snuggle into the crook of his neck.  Then he’d start lazily tracing patterns on McCoy’s arm, or playing with his hair.  It wasn’t as if McCoy didn’t enjoy these moments...quite the opposite.  It took all he had in him not grab Jim’s face, snap _“Jesus, kid, I can’t take much more of this!",_  and kiss him with all he had.  

That’s what was bothering him so much; he was afraid he would snap and do something stupid and impulsive one day, and if he was reading Jim all wrong, which he probably was, then everything would end in awful embarrassment for both of them, and he would never be able to look Jim in the eye again.

He had thought a lot about it, and he had come to the conclusion that the only smart and sane thing for him to do at this point was to find a way to move on.  He needed to find a girl, someone who could capture his attention long enough to get his mind off of Jim, even if it was just a one night stand.  He assumed that Jim’s offer to set him up with someone still stood, so he carefully tried to find a way to bring the subject up one evening before Jim left for work.

“Are you coming to the pub tonight?” Jim called from the bathroom, combing his hair and dabbing on cologne.

“No, I don’t think so…” McCoy answered from where he sat at his desk, writing a letter to Joanna.  “I’ve got to finish this letter, and then I think I’ll go grocery shopping.  Let me know if you need me to pick anything up.”

“Box of condoms would be good, thanks,” Jim grinned over at him.

“Ha, ha…” McCoy replied, and then, figuring this was as good a segway as any, continued, “Speaking of…”

“Speaking of...?  What could you possibly have to say that would be speaking of condoms?”  Jim laughed.

McCoy felt heat rising in his cheeks and looked down at his desk, busying himself with his letter and trying to sound casual.  “Remember, um, a while ago, when you were dead-set on setting me up with a girl?”

“Yeah?  And you were dead-set on rolling your eyes and ignoring me?”

“I, well, I think I’d like to...reconsider the offer.”

“What?  You want me to set you up with someone?  With who?”

McCoy cleared his throat.  “Is...Gaila still on the market?”

A month ago, Jim would’ve whooped and wolf-whistled, clapped him on the back and made a dirty joke.  But now his expression was flat, his tone surprised, and he made no grand gestures of excitement.  Strange.

“Uh...I can check tonight, if you want.  Yeah.  I’ll ask her.  That’s great, Bones.  That you’re thinking about...dating again.”

“Yeah...I think enough time has passed that I’m ready now.”  The words sounded ridiculous and ingenuine spilling from his own mouth.  He wasn’t ready.  The idea of going on a date, getting dressed up, making small talk with a woman he barely knew seemed akin to torture.  But at this point, it seemed a welcome change from the seemingly endless amount of angst his feelings for Jim were causing him, and perhaps even an awful date would pave the way for better days and new relationships, and their friendship could return to just a normal relationship between two male roommates.

Jim left, and when he returned that night to find McCoy in bed and feigning sleep, he dropped a single slip of paper on the nightstand.  When Jim was in bed and McCoy was pretty sure he was asleep, he reached out a hand to grab the piece of paper, and squinted at it through the darkness.  It was Gaila’s contact information, and beneath that, a scribbled note in what must have been her handwriting.  It read: _“I get off early this Saturday.  Pick me up at the bar at 6."_   Next to that, she had drawn a tiny picture of a heart.  He wondered what he was getting himself into.

\--

McCoy spent a full two hours getting ready on Saturday.  He went through every good shirt he owned and fussed over finding clean socks, and took his sweet time shaving and washing up.  He even dabbed on a bit of Jim’s cologne, which turned out to be a bad idea, because now he was pretty sure the smell -- a sort of musky, cinnamony blend -- was going to remind him of Jim all night.

He settled on a dark green button down and his nicest pair of jeans.  He didn’t really own any dress shoes, so he wore his standard issue academy shoes.  He wanted to ask Jim’s opinion on this outfit choice, but Jim was being oddly quiet again, absorbed in some movie he was watching on his PADD, stuffing his face with potato chips at the kitchen table.  Again, McCoy couldn’t help thinking that it was out of the ordinary for Jim not to be helping him pick out his outfit, cracking jokes and saying things like _“Ooh, Dr. McCoy’s got a hot date tonight! Make sure you bring protection!”_  

Even when McCoy put on his coat and said, “Okay, I’m leaving,” Jim hardly glanced up.  He just nodded and said “See you later.”

No _have fun_?   _No knock ‘em dead_?  It was so out of character.   _Whatever_ , he thought, closing the door behind him and walking down to the campus transit station.

When he entered the pub at five ‘til six, Gaila was behind the bar serving the last of her customers.  He took a seat at a table near the door, and she smiled and walked over him, bringing him a glass of his usual bourbon and coke.  She told him that she needed to go to the back room and change, and then she’d be ready to go.

He downed his drink in one big gulp while he waited for her.  No amount of alcohol could prepare him for this night, but he could try.  When she returned a few minutes later, she had changed out of the tight black t-shirt and jeans combo that all the employees seemed to wear to work, and into a sleek black halter dress with bright red pumps.  He stood, feeling underdressed and awkward.  “Uh, hi…” he started feebly.

“Hi, Dr. McCoy,”  she giggled, batting her lashes at him.

“Call me...uh, Leonard.”  He shuddered inwardly.  No one called him Leonard besides his family, and the name ‘Bones’ was something too personal, something that belonged to Jim.  But he couldn’t have his date calling him by his last name, so, whatever.

“Shall we go?” he gestured to the door.  Should he offer her his arm?  No, not on the first date...right?  God, he was so rusty at all of this.

They went to a place in the lower end of Pacific Heights called Sweet Lime Thai Cuisine, which was Gaila’s choice.  He rarely strayed from standards like pizza or steak and potatoes when left to his own devices, but he was trying hard to be easygoing, determined not to let his stubborn and surly nature ruin this date.  

The food turned out to be pretty good, and they each ordered a glass of wine, which eased the tension and got him comfortable enough to let his guard down.  The conversation started to flow pretty easily, and by the end of their meal he was almost enjoying himself.  He supposed that he had held some pre judgements about Gaila, thinking that she was little more than a sweet but ditzy bartender who knew how to work her male customers.  As she talked about her field of study in Stellar Cartography, however, he realized that she was incredibly dedicated, smart and passionate.  She had big ambitions to make it onto a great ship, and her eyes lit up when she talked about living in the stars.  She asked him lots of questions and seemed genuinely interested in everything he had to say, and had a kind and compassionate response to everything.  If there was ever an awkward silence, she knew the perfect thing to say, swiftly  easing the tension with a witty remark.

When they had finished dinner and were walking back to their bus stop, McCoy simply assumed that they would bus back to campus and then retire to their respective dorms.  It was his Southern upbringing, he supposed, ingrained in him all those years ago that a gentleman didn’t go to bed with a woman before at least three dates had passed.  But this was San Francisco, Gaila was young and free spirited, and the same rules that applied in Georgia ten years ago just didn’t seem to apply to this situation.  Gaila slipped her hand in his when they got off the bus and walked through the campus toward the living complexes, leaned in close and whispered, “My roommate is away for all of winter break.  She’s spending it out of town with family.  So, if you wanted to come back to mine…”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself before answering, “Okay.”   _Fuck it._  This was what he’d wanted; this was how he was going to get over Jim.  And his date with Gaila had gone better than he could have hoped.  What did he have to lose?

They made their way to Gaila’s dorm room, and as she swiped her fingerprints on the pad by the door he felt his pulse increase substantially.  As she led him through the threshold into the dark room, he had half a mind to turn around and bolt back to his own quarters.  She gave his arm a squeeze and then walked over to the window, leaving him standing idiotically by the door, unsure what to do next.  It wasn’t until the room was suddenly bathed in a warm glow that he realized the windowsill was lined with a row of candles, and she was lighting them.  He swallowed hard.

After the candles were lit, she turned back around to face him, and then unbuttoned her coat and let it fall to the floor.  He felt paralyzed as she walked toward him, pausing to press a button on a small device sitting on the counter.  Music began to [play](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VM6uQ0ewdA), and if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed with nerves he might have laughed at the cliche nature of the situation.

She sauntered back over to where he was standing and threw her arms over his shoulders, laughing easily and saying, “Make yourself comfortable, Leonard.  I’m not going to bite.  Unless you like that.”

He felt warm and averted his eyes, seeming to forget all the appropriate things to say and do in these situations.  Gaila took it upon herself to remove his jacket for him, discarding it on the floor and then circling her arms around his neck once more.  She began to sway to the music, and dancing was one thing that he knew how to do -- what with being raised in a traditional southern community, where everyone took ballroom as an extracurricular at least once during their grade school years -- so he placed his hands on her waist and smiled down at her, moving in time with the beat and then taking her hand in his to twirl her, making her giggle and pull him in closer.  She slid her hands down his chest and gave him a playful shove, making him stumble not-so-gracefully backward onto her bed.  His head hit the pillows with a soft thud, and she slipped out of her heels and then knelt down in front of him to remove his shoes.  While she was out of his line of vision, he took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh.   _This is really happening.  There is no backing out now._

She clambered up onto the bed and straddled his waist, her knees on either side of his hips, holding him in place.  He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, and she batted her long eyelashes, smiling sweetly down at him.  “Is this okay?” she asked.

He nodded and cleared his throat.  “Yeah, yeah.  Fine.”  

She slid down so that their bodies were completely aligned, faces just inches apart, and he could feel her breath and smell her perfume, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.  She kissed him in a series of languid movements, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and tangling their tongues together, taking total control.  He feebly tried to kiss her back, but it felt so good to be kissed like this, to have someone there with him, wanting to make him feel good.  It had been so, so long.  Then she started playing with the hem of his shirt, running a hand along the skin of his lower abdomen before slipping both hands under his shirt and trailing slim fingers up his chest, and that’s when everything started to feel inexplicably and utterly wrong.

He broke the kiss and placed a hand on her arm, halting her in her movements.  “Um….”

“Hmm?  Is everything okay?”

He had no words, and no good reason to break this off, but he knew without a doubt that this was not something he could follow through with.  “Uh…I’m so sorry.  I just...can’t.”

“Lights on,” she activated the automated lighting system, sitting up and sliding off of his lap to sit cross-legged beside him on the bed.  “Oh no, _I’m_  sorry.  Was that too much?  I always take it too far, too soon....”

“No, no,” he said, also sitting up and leaning forward, letting his head fall into his hands.  This was excruciatingly embarrassing.  “It’s not you,” he mumbled into his palms.  “Oh, God, I don’t know what to say.”  

When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see Gaila smiling knowingly at him, and even more surprised to hear her laugh out loud.  “Oh, I should have seen this coming,” she shook her head.

He looked at her incredulously.  “Seen _what_ coming, may I ask?”

“You don’t have to explain,” she assured him, placing a hand on his knee to comfort him.  “I thought it was just a rumour when I first heard it, but it all makes sense now.”

He was getting annoyed now.  “ _What_  makes sense?”

She looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’re in love with Jim Kirk, aren’t you.”  It wasn’t a question.

He folded his hands in his lap and looked down.  “I was hoping it wasn’t _that_ obvious.”

“It’s as plain as day, and the whole school knows it,” she informed him sympathetically.

He groaned.  “Do you think Jim knows?”

“I don’t know, honestly.  I overheard Sulu talking to Jim about it at the bar once, telling him how everyone’s been betting on it and stuff.  But whether he sees it for himself, I can’t tell.  I won’t tell him though, if you’re worried about that.”

He nodded once.  “I don’t know if I can go back to our dorm tonight.  Don’t know how I’d explain.”

“You can stay here if you want.  Feel free to take my roommate’s bed.”

“Thank you.  Really.  I had fun tonight, all things considered.  Please know that this isn’t anything to do with you...I’d still like to get to know you better, as friends, if you’re interested.”

She grinned and hugged him.  “Me too.  I hope everything works out for you and Jim.  Although I have to say, I am a little disappointed.  The good ones are always gay.”

He laughed and hugged her back, and then got up and crossed the room to climb into the second bed.  Well, so much for his master plan to get over Jim.  At least he had gained a new friend out of the whole thing, though.  

\--

The next morning, he stayed with Gaila for a little while and they chatted over coffee and bagels.  He tried to drag the conversation on for as long as he could, because he was nervous about how Jim would be acting when he got home.  When he felt he had overstayed his welcome, he thanked Gaila profusely for letting him stay, and she kissed him on the cheek and then shoved him out the door, saying that he couldn’t put off returning home to Jim forever.  “Go tap that cute ass!” she shouted after him.  “God, do I know a few girls who would like to be in your place.”

When he came through the door of his own dorm, Jim was sprawled out on his bed, reading a magazine.  McCoy was expecting the silent treatment again, but instead Jim looked up at him, all wide-eyed and intense, and stated the obvious.  “You didn’t come home.”

“No...I didn’t.  Is that a problem?”

Jim tossed the magazine aside and sat up, facing Bones.  “I guess not.  I just...I thought you were old-fashioned.  I thought you hated one night stands.  I thought...I knew you better.”  The last part was mumbled, so quietly that McCoy almost missed it.

It wasn’t as if McCoy could tell Jim what had really happened.   _Oh, yeah, I was going to sleep with Gaila, but then I freaked out and she figured out that I’m in love with you, so she invited me to sleep in her roommate’s bed so I wouldn’t have to come home and tell you what happened._ He opened his mouth to try to find a way to explain, but Jim was still rambling on.

“I just think it’s kind of rude.  To lead me to believe it was just a casual date, and then to be out all night and not call.”

Jim’s attitude was confrontational, almost aggressive, and it irritated McCoy.  All of this was Jim’s fault anyway.  Jim’s fault for being so gorgeous and wonderful.  For trying to kiss him, if indeed that had been what he was trying to do, and then turning around and being a total  asshole.  The mixed messages were infuriating, and McCoy decided right then and there that he would just let Jim believe he _had_  slept with Gaila.

“God knows you’ve spent the night with plenty of girls, Jim, so I don’t know why you seem to have a problem with me doing the same.”

“I don’t have a problem.  I’d just like a heads up, I guess.  I’d like to know if I should expect you home at night.”

“Didn’t know I had to run my every move by you.  I’m a grownup, you know.  Older than you, in fact.  I can take care of myself.”

“Fine,” Jim snapped.

“Fine,” McCoy retorted, and then huffed off to the bathroom to take a shower.  They didn’t speak for the rest of the day.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim fears he might be alone for Christmas.

It was nearing Christmas.  Lights and wreaths and ribbons were cropping up all over campus and along the streets of San Francisco, Christmas songs were playing in all the stores, and Jim was not excited in the least.  In fact, he had been in a terrible mood all week.

Okay, so maybe he was jealous.  No way to sugar coat it, really.  One day, Bones had been this miserable misanthrope, moping around and acting all clingy, making Jim feel important, wanted, needed.  The next, he suddenly had a rekindled desire to start dating, and seemed to immediately be in a relationship?  A _sexual_ relationship, at that?  Jim felt like his world had been turned upside down.

He knew that he had originally been the one to suggest that Bones go out with Gaila in the first place, but that had been before.  Before Thanksgiving, before all those things Jocelyn and then Hikaru had said to him, and before the stupid little incident in the clinic after he had gotten into that fight outside the bar.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Bones’ sudden desire to go out with Gaila had anything to do with what had happened that night.  Maybe he had totally freaked Bones out, and made him want to run the other way screaming.  If he could do the whole thing over again, he never would’ve gone in for the kiss.  What a stupid fucking idea that had been.     

It had been about a week since Bones’ first date with Gaila, and in that time Bones had scarcely been home at all.  Granted, Jim knew he was being irritable and distant and was no fun to be around, but still, this thing with Gaila seemed to be progressing awfully fast.   _Bye, I’m going to visit Gaila at work.  I’m going over to Gaila’s for coffee.  Gaila, Gaila, Gaila._  It was difficult to admit, but Jim hadn’t felt this alone since he was a teenager.

So there was that, and then there was the fact that, God, he hadn’t had sex in over a month.  He knew he was being a big baby, that Bones had gone way longer without, and that he deserved to have some fun.  But for whatever reason, Jim had lost all interest in one night stands with stupid women from the bar, and it irritated him that Bones’ libido was being taken care of while his own was at the mercy of his right hand, which could only take him so far.  The whole thing just made him irrationally angry.  

All in all, it had been a crappy start to his winter break.  Maybe if he could just learn to keep his stupid attitude to himself, if he could learn to be happy for his friend and stop slipping in a snarky remark every time Bones mentioned doing something with Gaila, then everything would be fine.  But that wasn’t really his style.  If he was feeling annoyed, he was going to let it show, God dammit.  

\--

There was nowhere to hide.  Jim saw Gaila twice a week at the bar, which was getting terribly awkward.  Although they had always been friends, Jim found that he could no longer look her in the eye, because every time he did, all he could think was _you’re fucking my best friend._  Bones was still out of the house doing things with her on most days, but whenever he knew Bones was going to be at the dorm, Jim had started finding excuses to leave.  Bones wasn’t one to share explicit details -- in fact, he was being noticeably vague about _everything_ he did with Gaila -- but Jim didn’t want to give him any chance to fill him in on whatever they were doing together, because he knew it would just make him mad.  Just being in the same room as Bones was driving him crazy at this point.  He couldn’t look at him without thinking about all the things he and Gaila were doing.  Imagining Bones falling apart, needy and vulnerable in someone else’s bed was...well.  He honestly couldn’t decipher which of his feelings were stemming from jealousy and loneliness at Bones not being around as much, and which were born from pure sexual frustration.

A good remedy to both was physical activity.  Working out had always cleared his head and made him feel better no matter what was bothering him, and he had long ago learned that it was a quick way to let off steam and calm his sex drive whenever it was difficult to find time alone, or in this case, when time alone just wasn’t cutting it. And since he was on Winter break and didn’t have his combat class to go to every week, he was trying to find more creative ways to get his fix.

On Saturday morning before Bones woke, Jim slipped on some sweats and track jacket, grabbed his running shoes, and headed to one of the best and most challenging places to run in all of the bay area: the [Lyon street stairs](http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://paleoninjas.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/san-francisco-summer-2005-003.jpg&imgrefurl=http://paleoninjas.com/2011/07/19/lyon-street-steps-literally-destroyed-me/&h=1200&w=1600&sz=714&tbnid=NF89nJP7acXy_M:&tbnh=94&tbnw=125&zoom=1&usg=__XFwY-AM2nELuN_HDfHzS7ujEfjI=&docid=-34jAi_pAMH2VM&sa=X&ei=2Z5kUtHuDYnXiALx34HYAw&ved=0CEUQ9QEwBA).  He took a deep breath at the base of the steps, lined with hedges and beautiful foliage.  The view from the top of the stairs was breathtaking, with hundreds of rooftops clustered together in the city below, like tiny toy houses lining the sea, and he knew that once he got up there he would start to feel better.  Fueled by the jealousy and annoyance that had been building in him all week, he flew up the steps faster than he ever had before.  He revelled in the feeling of his legs working hard beneath him, face flushing and breaking a sweat.  Endorphins clouded his senses after the second trip up the stairs, and by the third he had almost forgotten why he had been upset.

As he was coming down the stairs for the fourth time, he decided to take a detour to the drinking fountain.  He closed his eyes and splashed some of the water on his face; even though it was a chilly day in December, he was working so hard that his body temperature must have been off the charts.  With his eyes shut tight and water dripping down his face as he leaned over the fountain, he heard a familiar voice.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Jim straightened up, wiped his eyes and then opened them, his vision taking a moment to adjust before he focused on Bones, standing beside him, hair sleep-mussed and still in pajama pants with a baggy sweatshirt thrown over them.

“What, so you rolled out of bed and thought you’d track me down?  A little creepy, Bones.”

Bones laughed wryly and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “Didn’t know when else I was going to get the chance to talk to you; you’ve been avoiding me like the plague for nearly two weeks.”

“Uh, no, you’ve been gallivanting around town with your new fuckbuddy for nearly two weeks. _You’ve_ been avoiding _me_.”  Jim placed his hands on his hips, still panting heavily from him run.  His anger had not, apparently, dissipated quite enough.

Bones shook his head and looked down at the ground, evidently trying to remain composed.  As usual, he failed, snapping his head up and practically shouting, “Dammit, Jim, why have you been acting like such a fucking dick lately?   _You_ wanted me to start dating again, _you_ wanted me to make friends and get out in the world, and as soon as I do, you act like a pouty teenager and give me the cold shoulder.  Explain, please, because I’m done trying to read your mind.”

Jim just looked at him carefully, calculating, trying to decide how much to say.  He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then, in as calm a voice as he was able, said, “Before, when I was trying to get you to go out with Gaila, we weren’t as close yet as we are now.  I thought it’d be good for you, and that was all I cared about.  Then thanksgiving happened, and I realized that I wanted it to be like that always, just the two of us, doing everything together.  I didn’t want you to spend your time with anyone else.  It’s stupid, and selfish, but if you want me to be honest, that’s how I feel, okay?”

“ _Jim_ ,” Bones interrupted, expression softening, but Jim was on a roll now and he just kept rambling, not stopping to think how stupid and vulnerable he was sounding.

“It’s four days before Christmas,” his voice cracked, “And you haven’t asked me how I want to spend it or even told me you wanted to spend it with me.  I haven’t heard from my mom in months, or my brother, and if we’re sticking to the same pattern they’ve had for the last five years or so, they’re not going to comm on Christmas.  And you know what?  That’s fine, I’m used to it.  But if you’re busy fucking some girl, I’m going to be all alone, God dammit, because you’re as close to family as I’ve got.”  He felt a lump in his throat, so he shut up before he started bawling and made this even more embarrassing than it already was.  People walking up and down the stairs were already stopping to stare.

“God fucking dammit, kid,” Bones breathed, looking completely taken aback.  “Why haven’t you _talked_ to me about any of this?”

“Because it’s stupid, and it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.  Jesus, Jim, come back here.  Talk to me, dammit!”

But Jim had taken off running, back up the steps, shouting, “I’ll see you later at the dorm.  Sorry for being a jackass.”  He needed to get as far away as possible.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had let his emotions flow so freely, but it felt awful.  Why did people always say they felt better when they got things off their chest?  It made him feel like his heart had been torn out of his chest and run over by a truck.  Keeping things bottled up felt way better.

Hot tears fell down his cheeks then, with his back safely turned to Bones, running up, up, and away.  He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and didn’t look back.  When he turned around at the top of the stairs to run back down, Bones was gone.

\--

On Christmas eve, Jim got home late from running errands, and came back to the dorm expecting Bones to be over at Gaila’s dorm, probably curled up watching _It’s a Wonderful Life_ or something.  But when the doors slid open and he walked over the threshold, he nearly dropped the shopping bags he was carrying, because Bones was there, sitting on his bed and smirking over at Jim.  But it wasn’t just his presence that shocked Jim, it was the fact that the entire dorm had been transformed into something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the december issue of a home and garden magazine.

There were twinkling lights everywhere; all along the walls, around the window and the door frame, and most spectacularly, strung around a modest little Christmas tree in the corner by the window.  The tree was sparse and looked like Bones had probably found it at the last minute, but it was absolutely covered in shiny ornaments, paper chains, and ribbons, making it look far grander than it actually was.  Paper snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling from thin strings, and there was a wreath on the wall between their two beds.

Jim looked around the room in awe, and Bones stood and walked over to him.  “Merry Christmas, Jim.  I know it isn’t much, but I wanted to do something for you --”

“Are you serious?  This is more than anyone has ever done for me.  Where did you get all this stuff?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” Bones replied sheepishly.  “You should’ve seen how elaborately Jocelyn used to decorate our house.  I know she had tons of extra stuff, so a few days ago I commed and asked her to send me a box of anything she wasn’t planning to use...and, well, here it is.”

Jim tore his eyes away from the beautiful decorations and met Bones’ eyes.  “Thank you, Bones,”  he said simply.  Then, looking down at his feet, he added, “I’m...sorry, for how I’ve acted these past few days.”

“Apology accepted, Jim,” Bones smiled.  “And, well, I guess this is sort of _my_ apology,” he gestured around the room.  “I’m sorry for being around less, and for being oblivious...we’ve gotta be there for each other, kid, and God knows you have been for me.”

Jim shrugged.  “You don’t have to apologize.  I’m glad you found someone to be with.  I don’t expect you to be there for me every second of every day.” _But I want you to be_ , he couldn’t help thinking.  “And besides,” he continued, smirking, “You _really_ needed a good lay.”

The expression on Bones’ face then was odd, almost guilty.  He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchenette, gesturing Jim to sit down at the table.  He poured them each a drink, and then sat down across from Jim, eyebrows knit and mouth pressed in a hard line.  “I have to tell you something, Jim,” he stated bluntly.

“Go for it,” Jim urged, confused.

“Gaila and I haven’t slept together.”

“...Oh.”   _Well, that’s weird,_ Jim thought.   _What the fuck have they been doing together all this time, then?  Playing checkers?_  “You just want to take your time, or what?”

“No.  I don’t... _want_ to sleep with her.  Ever.”

Jim took a long swig, never taking his eyes off of Bones’ face, forehead creasing in confusion.  “I don’t get it.  You didn’t come home, that first night you went out with her.  If you guys didn’t fuck…?”

“She wanted to.  I thought I wanted to.  We got pretty close, and then I backed out.  She let my sleep on her roommate’s bed because I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared.  You could’ve told me.”

“I know, and I should’ve.  But then I came home to next morning, and you seemed so angry, and that annoyed me, so…” he hung his head, placing his hand to his forehead.  “It was just stupid and dishonest, and it won’t happen again.”

Jim nodded.  “Can I ask...no, nevermind.”

“No, go ahead.  I figure I owe you as many details as you want to hear at this point.”

“Why did you back out?”  He looked a Bones intently, trying to read every subtle twitch of his mouth and movement of his brow.  He had one idea, one hopeful, stupid, crazy notion that was terribly conceited and far fetched, but he wanted to hear it from Bones himself.

Bones took a deep breath, seeming anxious.  He took a long sip of his drink before slamming it down on the table and bursting out, “I don’t know how to say this, kid, but I’m pretty sure you know that everything changed for both of us that day we met on the shuttle.  Don’t try to say it didn’t.  I don’t...I don’t know how to live without you, and that scares the living hell out of me.  So I tried to distract myself, thought I could fuck a girl and get over it, but what I found out is that I didn’t _want_ to get over it, and _that_ scares me more than anything.”

Jim just stared at him, taken aback.  Bones hadn’t really answered his question, but he understood nonetheless.  Jim’s nagging suspicion had been right, in a way.  The reason Bones couldn’t sleep with Gaila was because of _him_ , in some capacity anyway.  He didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to live without me, Bones.  I’m not ever gonna let that happen.”

“But we could be stationed on different ships.  In a few years, we could be assigned different missions and never see each other again.  There’s gonna come a time where our paths are going to split off from one another, and God, I can’t...I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Jim.”  Bones was distraught, voice rising in pitch, and Jim had to get up from his chair and rush over to comfort his friend.

“Shh, Bones, I don’t like thinking about that either, but it’s all gonna be okay,” Jim said, kneeling down next to Bones’ chair and placing a hand on his knee.  “There’s a chance we _could_ be put on the same ship, and that thought keeps me going.  How you’d be the best CMO ever, and how you’d be there to keep me from doing too many stupid things, but how I’d mostly ignore you anyway.”

Bones laughed at that, and Jim nuzzled into his side, chuckling.  “We’ll figure it out when the time comes, okay?  I’ll do whatever I can to make sure we’re always together.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bones sighed, reaching a hand down and stroking hair at the nape of Jim’s neck.  

“Anyway, thanks for telling me about the whole Gaila thing,” Jim added.  “Sounds like you got a friend out of the deal, so that’s cool.  She’s a great girl.”

“Yeah, she is,” Bones agreed.  “She was totally understanding about the whole thing.  She’s gonna be happy when I tell her that we made up.”

Jim rose and stretched.  “We’d better get into bed, or santa isn’t going to come for us tonight.”

Bones rolled his eyes.  “You’re a child.”

“I’m not the one who turned our dorm room into a fucking winter wonderland,” Jim shot back.  

Bones climbed into bed, and Jim was about to do the same, when an idea struck him.  

“Actually...you go on to bed,” Jim said.  “I remembered an errand I meant to run today.  I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow!”  

Jim rushed out the door, waving to Bones and laughing at the bewildered stare he was met with.  Jim had always procrastinated buying people’s Christmas gifts, but this particular time, he was glad he had waited.  The very best ideas sometimes struck at the last moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your continuous support!! :) I'm proud of myself for getting this far.
> 
> Just a heads up that I've got midterms coming up, so I will very likely have to take a short hiatus from writing. I have enough written for next Tuesday's update, but beyond that I have nothing, so it's all kind of up in the air. Thank you for sticking with me!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the best Christmas McCoy had had in a long while.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Jim tried to contain his apparent glee when he awoke on Christmas morning to see a small parcel in simple brown wrapping sitting under the tree, and McCoy at the kitchen table, coffee and blueberry muffins already laid out for them.  The day before, McCoy had picked up a dozen muffins from a small bakery in Pacific Heights; day-old and not quite the same as the homemade ones Jocelyn used to make on Christmas morning, but good nonetheless.  He was a sucker for traditions.    

“Don’t get too excited,” McCoy laughed, as Jim clambered out of bed to grab the small package, bringing it over and sitting down at the table to open it.  “I got it awhile ago, and I’ve just been waiting for a good excuse to give it to you.  It’s nothing much….”

Jim tore through the wrapping and took out a hardbound book, in good condition but obviously ancient.  The edges of the binding were starting to fray, and the pages were scattered with the occasional scrawl in the margins from owners past.  But McCoy had known the second he’d found it at a vintage book sale downtown that he had to get it for Jim.

“ _E. E. Cummings: the Complete Works_ ,” Jim read the title, set in gold lettering across the front of the volume.  A huge grin spread across his face.  “Dude, this is so cool.  This book is, like, ancient.  In a good way.”

McCoy chuckled.  “Open the flap.”  

Inside, he had scribbled “ _To Jim, so that he will stand a chance of not being an uncultured idiot forever.  Love, Bones_.”

Jim shook his head, and said, “You always have to get in a jab, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.  It’s my job.  Jabbing people.  Ha-ha, get it?”

Jim motioned like he was going to throw the book at him, but his grin was a tell-tale sign that he loved the present, and didn’t mind McCoy’s awful jokes.

“When you’re done making terrible puns, I have a present for you, too.”

“Really, now?” McCoy raised his eyebrows.  “You didn’t put it under the tree.”

“Yeah, well,” Jim brushed him off, getting up and rifling through one of his dresser drawers in the closest, “I didn’t even know we were going to have a tree until last night, so.  Nothing fancy here.  I think you’ll like it, though.”

He rummaged through the drawer for a while before unearthing a small rectangular object.  “I didn’t, uh, I have time to wrap it, either...I sort of...got it last night.”

“At least you’re honest,” McCoy smiled, remembering how Jim had suddenly rushed out the door the previous night and having no idea what he could possibly have gotten.  

He took the object from Jim.  It was a small wooden plaque with a silver front, engraved with words that took a moment to sink in.  It read: “Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the _Enterprise_.”

He knit his eyebrows together, staring down at the plaque in confusion.  He couldn’t find all the right words, so he just looked up at Jim and sputtered, “What is this?  How...how did you get this?”

Jim smiled sheepishly and shrugged.  “Pulled a few strings with a friend who works in the department that manufactures parts for the interiors of the ships.  It’s for you to hang outside of your office someday.  It’s kind of...a promise.  That you’re going to be my CMO.  And I thought, you know, why not shoot big and aim for the _Enterprise_?”

McCoy shook his head in disbelief.  “You’re somethin’ else, kid.  This is probably my favorite Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jim grinned.

They sat down and polished off more than half of the muffins, and McCoy offered to make some eggs and toast to go along with them.  He knew Jim loved it when he cooked for him.  Then they ate, talked, and sipped coffee lazily until it was well into the afternoon.

“So, tell me about what Christmas was like for you, back in Iowa,” McCoy inquired, after explaining the tradition of the blueberry muffins, and how Joanna would wake up before dawn and jump into his and Jocelyn’s bed, dragging them into the living room to watch her open presents.

“Snowy,” Jim smiled.  “When Sam and I were kids, before Frank, we’d get up and open presents, and then after breakfast we’d go sledding outside, just on this little hill by our house.  We didn’t even have a real sled, but we made them out of duct tape and pizza boxes, or old inner tubes, or whatever we could find.  We’d do that for hours, and then we’d come in and mom would make an awesome dinner, and then all three of us would curl up on the couch and drink hot chocolate all night until we fell asleep.”

“Sounds perfect,” McCoy said.  This was the first time he had really heard about the good side of Jim’s childhood.  He wondered what had happened, between then and now, that led to the whole family not even calling each other on Christmas.  Then he realized that it was a pretty simple explanation:  Frank had happened.

Speaking of calling family...he needed to check in on Joanna.  He got up and grabbed his PADD off his desk, and set it up on the table to start a video call.  Jocelyn answered, and greeted Jim and McCoy warmly.  Dave popped into view, wearing a dorky reindeer sweater and eating a muffin. _“Merry Christmas, boys!”_ he greeted.  He kissed Jocelyn on the cheek and then disappeared from view, and McCoy found that he was less bothered by the affectionate act than he would have been a month ago.  

Jocelyn called Joanna over, who scurried over and jumped into her mother’s lap, still in pajamas.  She immediately launched into a detailed description of every Christmas present she had received.  She excitedly held her little wrist up to the screen, flashing them the delicate gold charm bracelet with tiny silver charms of stars and moons that McCoy had sent her.   _“This one’s my favorite, daddy, I love it!”_

“I’m glad, baby girl,” he smiled.  

 _“She sent you something, too, but it might take a little while to arrive,”_ Jocelyn said.

 _“It’s a picture of a snowman made of macaroni noodles!”_  Joanna exclaimed. _“And I made one of a Christmas tree for Jim!”_

They all laughed.   _“So much for the surprise,”_ Jocelyn smiled.  

They bid each other farewell after a while, and even though he couldn’t be there with them, McCoy was left feeling happy and fulfilled.  He wondered briefly how awful and alone he’d be feeling at that moment, if he had never met Jim.

\--

In true single-college-guy style, Jim and McCoy had decided to gather up a group of their friends and go out to the pub for food and drinks in lieu of a traditional Christmas dinner.  They invited Gaila and Hikaru, and several other friends who either didn’t have the resources to fly back home for Christmas, or who didn’t have anyone else to spend it with.  

They ordered a big selection of finger foods to share; devilled eggs and finger sandwiches, little sausages, rolls, and delicate little sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes.  Jim had the night off, but he grabbed an apron nonetheless and went behind the bar to mix up a round of what he called a “special holiday surprise,” which turned out to be just vodka and eggnog, but was good nonetheless.

Halfway through the night, when they were all growing more and more festive and had had a few too many vodka eggnogs, Jim shoved a few coins into McCoy’s hand and told him to go put something “good and Christmasy” on the old fashioned jukebox in the corner.  Gaila got up to help him choose a song, looking cute and festive in her bright red santa hat that matched her bright red hair.  She slipped her arm through his and followed him over to the corner of the room where the jukebox was.  

Once they were safely out of earshot of the rest of the group, Gaila whispered, “So...everything’s fine now?”

“Yeah, yeah.  We made up last night.  I felt awful, you know, after he told me how he thought I just didn’t care about spending Christmas with him.  Kid’s got some family issues.  I’ve gotta take care of him, and stop being so stupid all the time.”

“You’re not stupid.  You’re just lovestruck.  Hard to tell the difference sometimes, though, I know.”  She winked.  

“Yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes.  “You know...the way he was acting, I’d almost say he seemed...jealous.  Of you and me.”

“Of course he was jealous!” she squealed, bouncing on her heels a little.

“Shh, calm down,” he hissed, glancing over at Jim, who was eyeing them out of the corner of his eye.  He smiled and looked away when McCoy caught his eye.

Gaila dropped her voice even more.  “You know what I think?  You should just kiss him.  Tonight, when you get back to the dorm, both drunk and tired and happy, just go for it.  Right on the mouth,” she broke off into a series of giggles when she saw McCoy’s eyes widening in horror.  

He gave her shoulder a playful shove with his, and smirked, looking down at the ground.  “I couldn’t,” he mumbled.

“C’mon,” she whined.  “I’m sure he’s _dying_ to get with your hot bod.”

“Shut up!” he laughed. They were like a pair of teenage girls.  “Just pick a song, please, before someone notices we’ve been over here for more than five minutes.”

He dropped the coins into her hand, and she scrolled through the songs on the screen before picking one and inserting the money.  He laughed out loud when the [first few notes hit his ears](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXQViqx6GMY).

As they walked back to the table, Gaila sang along with the song under her breath so that only McCoy could hear, changing the words to “All Jim wants for Christmas is youuu….” 

When they returned to the group, Jim raised his eyebrows at the song choice, amused, while they whole table laughed good heartedly.  “It was Gaila’s choice,” he explained, cracking a smile himself.

“Took you long enough to pick a song,” Jim teased.  “And it seemed like you two were getting pretty cozy over there.  I was about to come break it up.”  

Gaila nudged McCoy under the table with her knee, shooting him a gleeful look.  He was sure she would’ve resorted to all kinds of terrible jokes, had Jim not been within earshot.

\--

The bar wasn’t open very late that night, due to the holiday, so after they were all pleasantly full, drunk, and had gotten their share of lively conversation, the group parted ways.  Jim and McCoy rode the bus back to campus in better spirits than either of them had been in in ages.  Jim kept laughing at stupid things, burying his head in McCoy’s shoulder and saying, “I love Christmas so much.  Best holiday ever.  Don’t you love Christmas, Bones?”

“Yeah, sure, Jim.”  He rolled his eyes.  How the kid could act like such a lightweight sometimes was beyond him, although, he could feel the vodka in his own system as well when he stood to get off the bus.  They put their arms around each other, neither able to walk completely upright, and made their way back to their room.

“We need more music,” Jim announced when entered the dorm.  “I love Christmas music,” he expressed.  “It’s so...Christmasy!”

McCoy shook his head, laughing, and then stopped mid-laugh when Jim leaned over the little device on the counter to put on a song.  The jeans he had on that night were especially well fitting, more so than usual, which was saying something.  He had to take a breath to calm himself.

“[There we go](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTNheCEUP_A),” Jim said, sauntering back over to McCoy, swaying his hips obscenely to the music.  He dragged McCoy by the hand into the center of the room, whining, “Bones, teach me how to dance.  I never learned to dance.”  He slung his arms around McCoy’s neck, buried his head in his shoulder, still swaying, a little bit off-beat.

“If I tried to teach you, you wouldn’t even remember the steps in the morning let alone the next time you have an occasion to dance, so what’s the point?”

“You’re so...what’s the opposite of ‘optimistic,’?” Jim slurred.

“Pessimistic,” McCoy rolled his eyes, but he always had a hard time refusing Jim what he asked for, so he took one of Jim’s hands in his own and moved the other a little further down his shoulder, in proper dance form.  He moved his feet to the music, leading Jim in a slightly sloppy, slightly offbeat waltz, dragging him around the dorm room floor, with Jim giggling all the while.  It reminded him of that first night he had gone to Gaila’s dorm and danced with her, except that this was, well, better.  

“I know you’re drunk off your ass, Jim, but I’m pretty sure you’re messing the steps up on purpose at this point.

“Am not,” Jim laughed, shoving McCoy in the chest.  McCoy shoved him back, a little too hard apparently, because before he knew it Jim was stumbling backward against the wall.  and McCoy hurried over to him, laughing and apologizing, placing his hands affectionately on Jim’s shoulders.  He stood like that for a moment, in front of Jim, impulsively moving in even closer, so close he could feel Jim’s breath on his face.

Jim automatically placed both hands on McCoy’s waist, biting his lip and looking up with wide eyes.   _“Bones,”_ he breathed, making McCoy shudder.

With everything Gaila had said at the bar, everything that had happened between himself and Jim over the last few days, all the tension and the jealousies and everything running through McCoy’s head, he decided he might as well _‘just go for it,’_ as Gaila has suggested.

But how _could_ he just go for it?  How could anyone find it so easy?  Even in this extremely intimate position, he couldn’t actually fathom closing the small gap between them, making that huge leap from...whatever they were now, to whatever they _could_ be.  He hesitated, pressed his forehead to Jim’s, and then aligned their faces so that the tips of their noses were touching too.  So, so close.  Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he felt Jim’s hands trembling where they rested just above his hips.  He could just move in a fraction of an inch closer, and --

Jim’s comm beeped from his pocket, and they broke apart.   _This seems a little too familiar,_ McCoy thought, groaning inwardly.

Jim pulled the device out of his pocket and glanced at it, flicking his eyes back up to McCoy in shock.  “It’s my mom,” he announced with disbelief.  “Should I…?”

“Take it, Jim,” McCoy encouraged, not quite meeting his eyes.  He turned around, balling his hands into tight fists and letting out a shaky breath.  Another Goddamned moment for him to replay over and over in his mind for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, mama,” Jim spoke.  “No, of course I’m not drunk…good to hear your voice too...miss you too….”

Jim sounded so small and vulnerable, more so than McCoy had ever heard him before.  It was strange, witnessing this intimate conversation between mother and son, and incredibly heartwarming.  They talked for a good long while, and McCoy busied himself with thumbing through some of the poems in Jim’s copy of the E.E. Cummings Collection, and then eventually crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Just before he drifted off, he heard Jim whisper to his mother, “Yeah, mom, my roommate’s great...he’s like family to me now.  I...can’t imagine life without him.  He’s probably the best person I’ve ever met.”

McCoy felt his chest fill with warmth.  Jim would never be so candid if he knew he was listening.  He’d said plenty of nice things to McCoy before, but they were always wrapped up in sarcastic criticisms or playful banter.  

Awkward, interrupted almost-kiss or not, this was the best Christmas McCoy had had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with my as I desperately try to find time to write this story :) Real life has been a crazy blur lately, but I'm trying!!
> 
> Your comments and kudos always make my day <3 
> 
> P.S. My tumblr URL has changed! You can now find me at: www.knitthecitybones.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys receive a wedding invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE UPDATED AND FOR THAT I AM SO, SO SORRY. Real life got in the way of my writing, and once I stopped it was really hard to start again. But here it is, and you can all consider this a Christmas present! Please know that I love and appreciate every person who has been waiting!
> 
> Come say hi at: www.knitthecitybones.tumblr.com

As was the case with any break from school, Christmas vacation was over much too soon, and Winter term brought with it dark, cold weather, early mornings, and an inability for Jim to fully adapt to his new class schedule.  Between work and school and friends and Bones, Jim felt that he was going at full speed all of the time, never having a moment to relax.  

He hadn’t really even had much quality time with Bones in ages, not since Christmas anyway -- they still met for lunch a couple times a week, and Jim would still visit Bones at the clinic, and Bones would tag along with him to the pub...but there were always too many people around, and too many things to do, for it to feel special and meaningful.  Even their nights at the dorm were dedicated mostly to homework, what with both of them taking on more credits than the previous term.

It was as if they had reached an unspoken understanding to put whatever stood between them on hold, at least until they had time to really talk and figure it all out.  Two near misses had occurred between them now -- once at the clinic, after Jim had been beat up and had stupidly attempted to initiate a kiss, and they had been interrupted by Gaila’s comm, and once on Christmas night when Bones had seemed to be the one to initiate a move, and then Jim’s mom had commed at the worst possible moment.  Two steps forward...a _lot_ of steps back.  Jim wasn’t sure how much longer they could go on _not_ talking about these instances, but he was exhausted and drained and was currently spending every ounce of extra energy he had on keeping his grades up.

They needed a getaway, somewhere they could go and bond and talk, free from the distractions of schoolwork and campus life.  Something similar to what they had done over Thanksgiving break.  A  few months into Winter term, an opportunity of the very sort arose.

“So I asked my Astro Sci professor if there was any extra credit I could do for that one assignment I missed,” Jim rambled one evening as he scarfed down a quick dinner before work, as Bones sat cross-legged on his bed sorting through their mail, “And apparently the _only_ way to make it up is to visit the Astrophysics lab at the museum and write a five page paper about what I see.”

“Mmhmm,” Bones mumbled in response, eyebrows knitting as he opened an envelope and scanned the small notecard inside.

“And I just don’t even know when I’m going to have time to catch a bus down to the museum, let alone write a paper about it, in between work and my other classes, and -- Bones, are you listening?”

“What?  Oh, sorry, I was skimming through the mail and….”

“What?  What is it?”  Jim could tell that whatever it was in Bones’ hands was something different from their usual tuition bills and pizza coupons, so he got up from where he sat at the table and walked over to his friend’s bed.  The card was printed on heavy paper, with fancy golden letters scrawled across it.  Even from a distance, it looked formal and important.

“Wedding invitation,” Bones answered in a gruff monotone, shoving it into Jim’s hands and getting up to get a glass of water.

Jim sunk down onto Bones’ bed and examined the invitation, which read as follows:   _“Jocelyn Darnell McCoy and David Michael Conrad would like to formally invite you to their Wedding on April 5th….”_  Jim stopped reading at that, finally understanding McCoy’s apparent shock.

“Oh,” Jim spoke, lamely.  “Uh.  That’s...soon,” was all he could think to say.  “That’s really soon.  How do you feel about this?”

“How am I supposed to feel?”  Bones answered bluntly, back turned away from Jim, standing in the kitchenette with both hands gripping the rim of the kitchen sink.  “Not great.  Not terrible,” he continued, “But not great.  I’d been feeling okay about the whole Dave thing, you know, but marriage is...big.  I know I’m nowhere near ready for that myself, don’t know if I ever will be, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she is.”

“Yeah,” Jim nodded, turning the invitation over in his hands and reading the back of the card, which had details about the location and time frame of the event.  “Do...you think you want to go?  I mean, should...we go?”

“Well, if I’m going at all, you’re coming with me,” Bones laughed without much humor, turning around to face Jim and crossing his arms.  “No way in hell I’d be able to handle that on my own.”

“Do you want to go at all, though?”

Bones sighed deeply and placed a hand to his temple, forehead creasing.  “If I don’t go, it’ll send the message that I’m jealous, or upset, or that...I don’t know, that I don’t want to be a part of the family.  And I feel like, in some twisted, broken way...you, me, Dave, Jocelyn and Joanna _are_ a family.  We’ve all got the common uniting factor of loving Joanna, and if I don’t go to this wedding, somehow it’s gonna get twisted into me not caring about Joanna.  Not to mention, I’m dying to see my little girl again.  So, yeah, I guess we should go.  Doesn’t mean it’s gonna be easy.”

Jim nodded.  “Of course it won’t be easy.  But I agree, going seems better than not going.  And I’d love to see Joanna again too.”

Bones smiled wearily.  “It’s a date, then.  What’d it say, April 5th?  That’s right when our spring break starts, so we’d better start making travel preparations.  And planning outfits.  Oh, Lord, I don’t own a single fucking suit, and I’ve got no money to speak of….”

“Bones, Bones, stop.  We’ll figure it out, okay?” Jim grinned, knowing how these kinds of situations stressed his friend out to no end.  

“Yeah, okay,” Bones agreed.

\--

They didn’t talk much about the wedding again until after they had gotten through their final exams.  Miraculously, though the term had gone by in a huge blur and Jim had often wondered if he was going to pass everything, they had both received “A’s” in all of their courses.  He couldn’t believe they were already two thirds of the way through their first year at Starfleet.  In celebration, they went out for drinks and then went into town to get fitted for new suits for the wedding.

Jim laughed inwardly as the prissy woman in the shop measured Bones’ waist and shoulders, mostly for the fact that Bones’ expression read _kill me now._  

“You love seeing me miserable, don’t you?” Bones grumbled as the lady walked off to pull some suits from the racks, and Jim smirked and shook his head.  They were both fitted in simple, well tailored suits, grey for Jim and black for Bones.  The woman turned them to face the large mirror against one wall after she had finished poking and prodding and tweaking their outfits.

“Perfectly handsome!” she clapped, placing her hands on Jim’s shoulders, clearly flirting with him.  “You were made to wear this suit...not every man is, you know, but hmm...perfect.”

Jim caught Bones rolling his eyes, and although he was prepared to brush the woman off, after sensing his friend’s annoyance he decided he might as well have a little fun.  

“Well,” Jim lowered his voice and placed a hand on the woman’s waist, making her blush, “It takes a woman who knows what she’s doing to make a guy look this good, so I really can’t take all the credit.  You know, I’ve heard that some women find a guy in a well-fitting suit even sexier than if he were naked...what do you think?”

She giggled and blushed harder.  “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?  Guess I’d have to find out….”

Bones cleared his throat, looking more pissed off than he had in a while, which was saying something.  “So, how much do we owe you for the suits, ma’am?” he spoke, a little too loudly and gruffly.

Flustered, the woman started and hurried over to the register to finish their order.  The two of them went back into the fitting rooms to change back into their regular clothes.  

“Jealous, Bones?” Jim whispered.  

“You know, this wedding business is going to be hard enough, Jim, I don’t know why you have to knowingly mess with me and make it even harder.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jim winked, and Bones just shook his head.

As Bones started to unbutton his collar, Jim placed a hand on his to halt him for a moment.  Bones have him a quizzical look.  “Hang on a moment, just...I just wanted to get a look at you in your suit, without that obnoxious woman fluttering around.”

Bones looked down, self-conscious and flushing red.  “Not much to look at,” he muttered.  

“I beg to differ,” Jim argued, moving to stand behind Bones and placing both hands on his shoulders, turning him to face the mirror.  “Look at that gorgeous man.”

“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” Bones groaned.

“Well, yeah.  But seriously.  Look at us.  Look at you.  We look good.”   _We look good together._

“We do,” Bones admitted.  “Don’t act so surprised.  I have worn a suit before, and I can clean up nicely when I want to.  And _you’re_ the guy who had never even worn a tie before last Thanksgiving.”

“True,” Jim laughed.  “But no, I’m not surprised.  I’m just thinking...you know...we look good like this.”  He paused, and they just stood there, sharply dressed reflections staring back at them.  Jim hesitated for a moment before pushing on, “You sure you’d never consider marriage again?”

“Never said I wouldn’t considered it,” Bones said.  “...Just that I’d be more hesitant this time around, more cautious.  That’s all.”

“Ah.”

“Why?”

“Nothing.  I just, I could see you walking down the aisle again, in a suit like that, someday.  And it’s a nice mental image.  That’s all.”

“Huh.  Well, don’t hold your breath.”

But Jim thought he noticed a hint of a smile playing at his friend’s lips as he took off the suit and carefully placed it back on its hanger.

\--

By the first of April they were packed and ready, had bought their outfits and their wedding gifts (after a long, whiny rant about, “What do you get the woman who already has every household doodad you could want -- most of which I payed for, mind you,” they had settled on a new set of kitchen knives), and had their travel arrangements in place.  

Bones, surprisingly, did not complain or show any hint of nervousness as they boarded the shuttle.  Perhaps the wedding had given him too much too think about and was distracting him from his phobia, or perhaps he had completely gotten over it.  Whatever the reason, Jim decided not to mention it, fearing that pointing out Bones’ calmness would draw attention to the situation and have a reverse effect.

As they exited low orbit and sprawling Georgia farmland came into view, Jim couldn’t help taking Bones’ hand in his own, knowing what they were coming here to do was not going to be easy.  “You ready for this?” he asked as they came in for a landing.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bones replied, knitting his brows and staring down at their interlocked fingers.  Considering all of their many instances of physical affection, this was one of the least subtle.

“Are you glad I came here with you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Anywhere I go you go,” Jim quoted, hoping Bones would recognize the line from what he had come to think of, cheesily, as ‘their’ poem.

“And whatever is done by me is only your doing,” Bones complied, meeting Jim’s eyes and giving him a soft smile.

It was several moments before they realized the shuttle had landed, and that it was okay to take off their seatbelts and exit the craft.

\--

It wasn’t until they were at Jocelyn’s house, sitting on the livingroom floor and catching up with Joanna, taking turns tickling her and making her giggle uncontrollably, that Jim was finally convinced that this trip was a good idea.  Seeing Bones interact with his daughter -- watching his demeanor change completely, his shoulders soften, his eyes grow warmer -- was something that never failed to make Jim happy.  It was a contagious kind of love.

Dave and Jocelyn seemed happy that they were there, if not in part because they were helping to keep Joanna out of her mother’s hair during these last few busy days of wedding preparation.  Jocelyn had, ambitiously, decided to plan her own wedding, as if being a bride was not stressful enough.  Although she had snapped a few times at the florist or the caterer over her comm, she was otherwise remarkably composed, and Jim had to give her credit for being the kind of woman who handled stressful situations with grace.

At one point on the evening of their arrival, when her mother was busy running some last minute errands with Dave, and her father was out picking up dinner, Joanna climbed into Jim’s lap on the couch and nuzzled into his neck.  

“Hey, kiddo,” Jim smiled down at the tiny brunette looking up at him with wide eyes.  “What’s happening?  What do you make of all this wedding business?”

“Fun, I guess,” she sighed, “I get to wear a pretty dress!  It’s purple!”

“I can’t wait to see it, Jo!”

“Yeah, I can’t walk in my shoes though.”

“I hear it takes years of practice,” Jim laughed.  “You’d love to see me try to walk in heels, I’ll bet.”

Joanna laughed uncontrollably at that, and Jim joined in.  When their laughter had subsided, Joanna looked up, smiled her sweet heart-shaped smile, and said, “When is daddy getting married?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Jim chuckled.  “Some people get married, some people don’t.  And some people get married twice, and for others once is enough.”

“And daddy’s already been married once.  To my mom.”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Have you ever been married, Jim?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I...these are hard questions, Jo, and I just don’t know.  I just haven’t, y’know?”

“Well, I think you should marry my dad.”

Jim’s stomach flip-flopped, which it definitely shouldn’t have done at a silly comment from a six-year-old.  But it did nonetheless.

“Well….” unable to think of anything else to say, Jim just nodded.  “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Take what into consideration?” came Bones’ deep southern drawl, always intensified when he was back home in Georgia, from the doorway.  He crossed the threshold carrying two pizza boxes.  

“Nothing,” Jim winked at Joanna, and she did her best to wink back, although she had trouble closing only one eye at a time.

“I always feel like I’m missin’ something, but whatever.  Here’s the pizza,” Bones rolled his eyes.

This sent Jim and Joanna into a whole new fit of giggles.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They needed to talk.  McCoy felt ready to burst.  He knew that it could wait until the wedding was over, or even until they got back to school, but this had been building and building for months and he was finally, finally ready to act on it.

_Ding-dong._

“Leonard, can you get the door?” Jocelyn’s muffled shout woke McCoy from his slumber very early on the morning of the wedding.  

“Huh?” he muttered, lifting his head off the pillow and squinting as sunlight came streaming in from a gap in the curtains.  Jim, burrowed deep in the covers beside him, didn’t stir.

_Ding-dong.  Ding-dong.  Ding-dong._

“Leonard, I’m _really_ swamped here.   _Please_ ,” she called again.

McCoy sat up and shoved the covers off of himself, mumbling, “Alright, alright….”

In a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, hair surely in a terrible state, he made his way to the front room and opened the door.  A delivery vehicle was parked in the driveway and a scrawny delivery boy looked up at him, holding a clipboard.  

“Good morning sir!  Where would you like the live peacocks?  And can I get a quick signature please?”

“The... _what?_ ”  McCoy squinted at him, taking the clipboard and scribbling his name at the bottom of the page.

“The, uh, the peacocks.  Someone at this address rented a dozen live peacocks?”

McCoy groaned.   _Jesus fucking Christ._

“Jocelyn!  Where should they put the twelve live peacocks?!”  He shouted down the hall.

“In the back yard!” she shouted back from behind her bedroom door.

McCoy slipped a pair of shoes on and grudgingly led the kid and his birds (which he held on leashes, six in each hand) around the side of the house and into the spacious backyard, where the wedding was to take place.  They had a small gazebo where the couple were to take their vows, and rows of chairs had been set up around it.  There was a temporary dance floor being set up on the other side of the yard, a large canopy with tables and chairs for the reception beneath it, and strings of fairy lights and clusters of flowers everywhere.

“Uh, yeah, just put the peacocks...wherever, I guess.”  

The kid handed him a bill and took the birds off of their leashes.  McCoy shook his head, both at the rainbow of feathers running around the backyard of his old home and at the price on the bill, which he was decidedly _not_ going to worry about because this was _not_ his wedding.

He crossed the lawn to the back of the house, came in through the back door, and set the bill down on the kitchen table.  He would let Jocelyn or Dave deal with that whenever they found it; no sense in stressing either of them out further by mentioning it now.  Jocelyn was still in her bedroom, probably having her hair done and making important comm calls simultaneously, and Dave’s car was gone which probably meant he was out running errands.

McCoy returned to the guest bedroom with a deep sigh.  Jim was stirring now, head peaking out from under the covers, lazily opening one eye to peer sleepily over at his friend.

“I had to let the peacock guy in,” McCoy explained.

“Of course you did,” Jim chuckled, voice full of sleep.

McCoy’s heart always melted a little, even after all these months of living with Jim, at the spectacle that was Jim’s bed hair and sleepy eyes and gruff morning voice.  He tried, he really did, but he could not resist the urge to climb back into bed with Jim.

He slipped off his shoes at the foot of the bed and slunk back under the covers, thinking that perhaps if he stayed there long enough, all of this wedding business would just disappear.

“Today’s the day,” Jim mumbled.

“Today’s the day,” McCoy concurred.  

“Feeling okay about it?” Jim inquired.

Instead of answering, McCoy grabbed the pillow from behind Jim’s head, which hit the bed with a _thud_ , and covered his face with it.

“Drama queen,” Jim rolled his eyes.

\--  

Four hours to go until the wedding, and anyone who wasn’t kept busy with at least one task at all times risked falling under Jocelyn’s wrath.  Her hair and makeup were already finished, but she wandered around in her bathrobe most of the day, making calls and barking orders at everyone.  Dave was driving back and forth between the shuttle yard and the house, delivering cranky old aunts and rowdy cousins who were coming from out of town.

Jocelyn had four bridesmaids sitting around her living room floor, putting together bouquets and boutonnieres.  At least three of them had already tried flirting with Jim, but Jim was of no mind.  His sole focus today seemed to be making sure McCoy was okay; every now and then, he would raise his eyebrows and give him a questioning thumbs up, to which McCoy would roll his eyes and give him one back.  He appreciated the sentiment, but really, it wasn’t like he was just going to burst into tears at any moment or have a mental breakdown or anything.  It was about as bearable as watching your ex wife marry her new fiance can be.

Jim and McCoy were mostly on Joanna duty.  They helped her into her dress and shoes, made sure she brushed her hair and had her little white basket filled with purple flowers, and then just had to keep her busy until showtime.  They took her out into the yard where she chased the peacocks and stole h’orderves off of trays on the table; maybe it was bad supervision, but it kept her busy.

The two of them sat at a table under the canopy to keep an eye on Joanna, and tried to stay out of the way of the caterers, who were setting the tables with delicate porcelain tea sets and silverware.  The yard was really starting to look breathtaking.

“So, was this what it was like when you and Jocelyn got married?  Was it this elaborate?”

“Hell no,” McCoy laughed.  “We had just finished college.  She was pregnant.  I didn’t want to get married at all, so when I finally gave in, it was pretty rushed.  Shotgun wedding in a courthouse, attended by my mother and her parents, who hated me.  It was over before it began.”

“Ah...I see.”

“Yeah.  I think that’s why Jocelyn went into wedding planning; she was always bitter about what she didn’t have.  Now she finally gets it.”

“You should have this, too.”

“Not this again, Jim.  Honestly.  Do you think I care about peacocks and h'orderves and hundreds of guests at a wedding?”

“No, but I think you deserve to be happy again.  I’m not talking marriage specifically, maybe not for a while anyway, but...I, uh, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something….”

McCoy’s heart skipped a beat.  Were they finally going to talk about everything that had passed between them these last few months?

Of course not.  

“Leonard!”  Jocelyn’s voice shouted from the back porch.  “I need your help with something in here!”

_Damn it all to hell._

\--

McCoy had not stepped foot in Jocelyn’s bedroom since they had shared it.  But she had called him in there to ask for his help with something, and you simply do not argue with the bride on her wedding day, especially if the bride is your ex wife and you fear her temper on a good day.

“What is it?” he asked, knocking lightly before pushing open the door.  The room looked almost exactly the same as when he had lived there, save for the fact that the men’s clothes in the open closet were unfamiliar.

Jocelyn sat on a stool at her vanity, auburn hair pinned up with loose curls falling around her face.  She was wearing a simple white dress, the  bodice of which she was grasping to her chest to keep it from falling down, as it was apparently unfastened in the back. The billowy white skirt fell around her stool in a snowy pool of fabric.

“I...I need you to help me into my dress,” she spoke uncertainly.

“Really?” McCoy raised his eyebrows.   “I mean, I don’t mind, but I would have thought you’d want someone else to do that.  Dave, or one of the bridesmaids, or someone….”

“Dave isn’t supposed to see me before the wedding, Leonard,” she laughed her trilling giggle with a hint of condescension.  “And you’re right, I could have asked one of the girls.  I just ...wanted to talk to you, I guess.  Touch base with you.”  

She stood, still clutching her bodice, and turned around to reveal an intricate system of ribbons waiting to be tied, corset style.  He walked over to her and complied, taking the delicate fabric between his fingers and beginning to tie.

“How’s Joanna doing?”  she asked.

“This is about Joanna?”  he sighed wearily.

She paused, shaking her head.  “You were never good with small talk,”  she mumbled.  “No, this isn’t about Joanna.  But I did want to ask you how she’s doing.  I hope that she’s handling all of this chaos well...I’ve hardly had time to talk to her about it, and she’ll be spending tonight with my parents as Dave and I are leaving directly for our honeymoon after the wedding. I  just hope she’s okay.”

“She’s fine, Joce.  She’s a trooper.  I’ve always marvelled at how well she handles change.”

“Good, good.  That’s good to hear.”

A heavy pause.  

“Soo…” McCoy spoke as he tied the last ribbon on her dress.  She turned to  face him, looking absolutely radiant, but her brows were knit.  

“Are _you_ okay, Leonard?”  she asked.

“Me?  Yeah, fine.  Fine.”

“I really appreciate you coming to the wedding, you know.  I know it’s a weird situation.  But it was important to Dave and I, and to Joanna especially, that you be here.  That you and Jim be here.  You and Jim...I have to say I was a little disappointed, when the two of you arrived, to find that you still hadn’t gotten on with things.”

“ _Gotten on_ with things?”

“Gotten the show on the road.  Gotten together.”  She smiled warmly.  “I tried to talk some sense into Jim about this the last time you were here, but it seems to have done little good.  I thought maybe you needed to hear it from me.”

He didn’t respond; he  needed to process what she was saying.   She had talked to _Jim_ about this…?  

Frustrated by his lack of response, Jocelyn pushed on.  “Leonard, I’m moving on.  You need to do the same.  Jim will make you so, so happy.  I don’t know how much more plainly I can put it.”

He was probably beet red.  If the situation was weird to begin with, it was beyond weird now.

“Jocelyn….”

“Don’t argue with me,” she said sternly.  “It’s my wedding day.”

“You look beautiful,” he told her, and he meant it.  

She placed her hands on either side of his face, and brought her forehead in so that it was touching his.  “I will always love you, Leonard McCoy.”

He felt a weight lifted off his chest, like he had suddenly been set free.  It was awkward as all get out, having this conversation with his ex about his relationship with his current object of adoration, but she was right.  He did need to hear it from her.  Not that he needed her permission or anything, but having her blessing and knowing that she truly wanted him to be happy seemed to open a door in his heart.

For the first time since he had met Jim, loving him suddenly didn’t feel ridiculous.  It felt like maybe, just maybe, it was within reach.  

He wrapped his arms around Jocelyn, and whispered a simple “Thank you,” into her hair.

\--

It was showtime.  Jim and McCoy sat next to each other in their fine new suits toward the back of the aisle, and waited in anticipation with the rest of the crowd.   A couple of Jocelyn’s  most intolerable aunts kept turning around in their seats to stare at them, and then ever so conspicuously whispering and giggling behind their hands.  McCoy tried his best to ignore them.

“Bones,” Jim whispered.  

“Hm?”

“You look great.”

“You too, kid,”  he replied, and then reached down tentatively to take Jim’s hand. It had been Jim who had initiated it on the shuttle, so he figured it would be okay for him to do so this time.  His conversation with Jocelyn had left him feeling bold.  

He thought he saw Jim grinning out of the corner of his eye, but he was looking straight  ahead at the alter.

The ceremony was beautiful.  Joanna walked slowly and carefully down the aisle, tossing her flowers just as she had been instructed, and looking as adorable as ever.  The bridesmaids and groomsmen followed suit, and then the audience took in a collective breath of awe when Jocelyn  walked down the aisle, accompanied by her father.  

Dave cried when he saw her.  This made Jocelyn start crying, and then her father was crying, and pretty soon the whole audience was crying.  Jim poked him in his side and whispered, “It’s _definitel_ y weird to cry at your ex-wife’s wedding,” but he could see tears in Jim’s eyes too.  

It went how most wedding ceremonies went; they were pronounced husband and wife, and they kissed, and everyone cheered, and Jocelyn threw her bouquet into the crowd.  Jim caught it, even though he wasn’t even supposed to be reaching for it, and he handed it to Joanna, who was thrilled.  Then they migrated over to the reception area, and the party really got going.

“Great job up there, Jo,” Jim was saying to Joanna as they took a seat and waited to be served by the caterers.  “You were the star of the show!”

She giggled and hugged them both, before running off to the dance floor where she spotted a couple of her cousins.  

Jim sighed and sat back in his seat, smiling lazily at McCoy.  McCoy cleared his throat.  “Hey, listen, Jim, we need to talk  about something….”

Jim sat up a little in his chair, eyes widening slightly.  “We do,” he agreed.  “It’s been such a long time coming.”  

“I…” McCoy started, just as someone tapped him on the shoulder.  He looked up, annoyed, to see one of Jocelyn’s great aunts.

“Leonard, oh, you look so handsome, dear,” the old woman croaked,  “May I steal a dance with the groom?”

“I don’t know, Auntie May, I’m not sure where the groom is,” he answered, knowing full well that Auntie May was suffering from Alzheimers and probably thought he was the groom.

“You’re always so funny, Leonard!”  she laughed, pulling him to his feet and leading him away to the dance floor.  He couldn’t figure out how to argue, so he turned his head and mouthed, _“sorry!”_ to Jim, who was laughing silently.

\--

After Aunt May, a bridesmaid wanted to dance with him.  And then Joanna, which he didn’t mind of course.  And then, god forbid, Jocelyn’s mother.   He could see that Jim had also been dragged onto the dancefloor by one of the bridesmaids, and was now dancing with one of Dave’s cousins or something.

They needed to talk.  He felt ready to burst.  He knew that it could wait until the wedding was over, or even until they got back to school, but this had been building and building for months and he was finally, finally ready to act on it. He wanted to grab Jim’s stupid face and kiss him with all he had, right then and there.

When Jim finally got away from his slew of female admirers on the dance floor, he made his way over to McCoy.  McCoy  had just finished dancing with another of Jocelyn’s aunts, so he rushed to meet Jim in the center of the dance floor.

“Hey, do you want to--” Jim started.

“Yes, God, yes,” McCoy cut him off.  “If we don’t talk now, we’re just going to keep getting interrupted for the rest of eternity.  So I just need to say this, right here, right now.”  His heart was pounding, and he took a shaky breath.  “Don’t interrupt,” he warned.  Jim nodded, watching him intently.

“James Tiberius Kirk,” he began,  “I love you.  I have loved you ...pretty much since we started rooming together at the Academy.  Maybe even the moment we met on the shuttle.  I was so broken back then, and it was like, when we met, I just...woke up from some kind of daze. I’ve been, just, _adoring_ you for months and months, and it’s been hard at times because I wasn’t sure what you were feeling or where we stood, and we kept getting interrupted at important moments.  But all that’s really important, all that I’m trying to say, is that you’ve made me so happy, Jim.  And I love you.  I said that already.  But yeah, I love you.”  

Jim just stared at him, eyes twinkling.  The dancefloor had gone pretty silent, and he didn’t dare take his eyes off of Jim to see how many people were staring at them.    Finally, Jim spoke.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to get a drink from the bar,” he said, smiling.    

McCoy let out a huge exhalation and laughed, shaking his head.  “You asshole, Jim!”

Jim’s smile was so, so bright, and his eyes so incredibly blue.  So gorgeous, and staring at him with such wonder.  Jim shook his head, cleared his throat, and said finally, “C’mere, Bones.”  

McCoy took a  few more steps toward Jim, and then Jim launched himself at him, flinging his arms around him.  Everyone on the dance floor erupted into cheers, and it became apparent that no one was dancing anymore.  McCoy could see Jocelyn and Dave across the floor, arms around each other, smiling brightly at them.  

“I love you, too,” Jim whispered so that only McCoy could hear him, and then crashed their mouths together.  Soft lips, rough stubble, deep sighs.  McCoy had certainly never been kissed like this; rough and gentle all at once, alternating between desperate and content.  Content that they were finally, after all of this time, sharing their first kiss; desperate to ditch the reception immediately and tear each other’s clothes off.  His hands were shaking as they came up to knot in Jim’s hair.

It was over too soon, and as they came up for air they looked around sheepishly at the many faces staring at them.  A few were giggling awkwardly or whispering to their neighbors, but most of the onlookers looked undeniably happy.   McCoy sought out one face in the crowd in particular, and when he spotted her, a wave of relief came over him.  Joanna looked over the moon, grinning and clasping her little hands together.  She clearly had no objections.

“Well,” he looked at Jim.

“Well,” Jim replied breathlessly from swollen lips.  

“Yeah, I think I’d like a drink from the bar,” McCoy smiled slyly.   

Both of them started laughing uncontrollably, and walked off arm in arm to get a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been calling this The Big One in my head for as long as I've been planning it. So I hope you all enjoy :) There's still more to come, but we're definitely in the home stretch now!!
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would end one of two ways, he supposed: they would decide to carry on just being friends (but would likely drift apart a bit), or they would decide to take things...further. The former option upset him when he thought about it, but the latter….(Jim's POV of end of the previous chapter, plus a bit more).

After dancing with half a dozen bridesmaids and random relatives of Jocelyn’s, Jim was nearing the end of his rope.  Weddings, he realized, had been a lot more fun when he was a directionless young adult whose only goal was to get drunk and have sex with someone from the wedding party (admittedly, this description would have fit him up until the previous year, but that was beside the point).  

Now, he realized that weddings were stressful.  By the time the reception started, he felt ready for a nap.  He and Bones had somehow been swept up in all the chaos and had helped a lot with putting up decorations, keeping Joanna busy, and basically being delegated any task that Jocelyn and Dave were too busy for.  And amidst all that, he really just wanted to talk to Bones.

He had tried, feebly, when they had found a quiet moment earlier whilst keeping an eye on Joanna in the yard; but Bones had been whisked off by Jocelyn for some unknown task, and Jim had been left to swallow his words like an idiot.  Just as well, because he hadn’t the faintest idea where to actually start. _So, hey, we’ve almost kissed twice and there’s a shit ton of sexual tension between us, and all of our friends and relatives are aware of it.  Do you want to talk about that?_  There was no good way to ease into that.

And Jim wasn’t even sure what he was hoping to get out of the conversation, whenever they got around to having it.  It would end one of two ways, he supposed:  they would decide to carry on just being friends (but would likely drift apart a bit), or they would decide to take things...further.  The former option upset him when he thought about it, but the latter….

He honestly just wanted to find Bones, and then find some way for the two of them to get away from the chaos and just talk.  Maybe, since ditching the wedding altogether would be incredibly disrespectful, they could just sneak off the dance floor and hit the bar that had been set up on the back patio.  When the cheesy ballad he was dancing to ended, he thanked his partner (a curvy blonde cousin of Dave’s...or maybe of Jocelyn’s...or maybe she was someone’s sister?) and fought his way through the crowd.  

Jim spotted Bones, who had just finished dancing with some older woman, and made a beeline for him.  Bones was looking so good in his new suit, freshly shaven and with hair he had actually bothered to comb.  Not that Jim minded Bones’ usual, slightly disheveled appearance -- like when he got home after working late at the clinic and greeted Jim with tired eyes, stubble gracing his jaw and hair all mussed.  But this was a good look for him, too.  God, they needed a moment alone.

Bones locked eyes with him and visibly relaxed; Jim knew, or at least liked to believe, that he was Bones’ lifeline through all this wedding business.  His friend started walking towards him, and they met in the middle of the dance floor.

“Hey, do you want to --” Jim began, intending to add, _“get a drink from the bar?”_

Bones cut him off.  His expression was hard to read, but Jim gathered soon enough that he had misunderstood what Jim was asking.  Well, not _really._  Turns out, they had been on the same page all along.

“Yes, God, yes,” Bones blurted out.  “If we don’t talk now, we’re just going to keep getting interrupted for the rest of eternity.  Don’t interrupt.”

Jim didn’t dare interrupt, but simply nodded.  His stomach swooped, wondering if this was what he thought it was, but a second later his insides turned to complete mush and he had trouble standing straight.

James Tiberius Kirk,” Bones began,  “I love you.” _Holy shit._  “I have loved you ...pretty much since we started rooming together at the Academy.  Maybe even the moment we met on the shuttle.  I was so broken back then, and it was like, when we met, I just...woke up from some kind of daze. I’ve been, just, adoring you for months and months, and it’s been hard at times because I wasn’t sure what you were feeling or where we stood, and we kept getting interrupted at important moments.  But all that’s really important, all that I’m trying to say, is that you’ve made me so happy, Jim.  And I love you.  I said that already.  But yeah, I love you.”  

Typically, Jim didn’t do well in these situations.  He’d had girls tell him they loved him before, and he had always fled immediately and stopped calling them.  His mother had told him she loved him when he was little, but she was perhaps the only person who did.  It wasn’t a word he was comfortable with, but he knew without a doubt that Bones spoke it with honesty, and that he felt exactly the same.  

But because he was Jim Kirk, he didn’t say it back right away.  He said instead, “I was just going to ask if you wanted to get a drink from the bar,” and then smiled as Bones laughed in exasperation and called him an asshole.  Yeah, nothing much was going to change between them.

“C’mere, Bones,” Jim said softly, because it was definitely time.

Bones took a tentative step toward him, but Jim was impatient, so he threw himself at his friend -- boyfriend? -- and kissed him like he had wanted to so many times before now.  But right before he did, he muttered, “I love you, too.”  And never had he felt it more than then.

\--

Jim and Bones moseyed around the reception area as the last of the guests trickled out, bidding congratulations to Jocelyn and Dave as they left.  They watched from a table under the canopy as Joanna hugged her little cousins goodbye, and family members embraced Jocelyn and shook hands heartily with Dave, who had an arm around his bride and was beaming.

At some point during the evening, Bones had reached down and taken Jim’s hand, and they had walked around like that for a while and now had their hands clasped on the table where they sat.  It still felt weird, out in the open for everyone to see -- Jim had fucked a plethora of women, women of different species even, and had no qualms about anything in that regard, but somehow holding hands reduced him to a nervous wreck.  Maybe because Bones was the first person whose hand he’d ever wanted to hold, and that meant so much more than sex.  But they had already basically made out in the middle of a crowded dance floor with hundreds of eyes on them, so he supposed he’d better get over it.

When the last of the guests were finally gone (save for Jocelyn’s mother, who would be taking Joanna home with her for the night so that the newlyweds could leave immediately for their honeymoon), Dave, Jocelyn, and Joanna made their way over to Jim and Bones.  

Joanna was the first to speak, her hair still in neat little curls from the wedding, which bounced as she excitedly exclaimed, “When are you gonna have your wedding, daddy?!  When are you gonna marry Jim?  And are you gonna let mama plan your wedding?  And can I be your flower girl, just like I was today?!”   

“Slow down, baby girl,” Bones laughed, letting go of Jim’s hand to lift his daughter up onto his lap.  “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions.  But for now, all you need to know is that Jim and I…” he looked at Jim for permission, and Jim nodded, “...love each other, and I guess you could call us...boyfriends, for now?”  Jim wasn’t bothered by the question mark he heard in Bones’ sentence, because the whole situation was full of uncertainty, and they _still_ hadn’t really talked about it.

Joanna nodded.  “Okay.  Boyfriends.  Yay!”  They all laughed, and Jocelyn shook her head.

“Say goodbye, sweetheart,” Jocelyn told her daughter.  “Grandma’s almost ready to take you to her house for the night, and you won’t be seeing your dad or Jim until the next time they visit.”

Joanna gave them each a long hug and kissed them both on their cheeks.  She got a little tearful near the end of their goodbyes, and her grandmother had to come scoop her up and take her to the car.  She waved from over her grandma’s shoulder as they walked away, and Bones blew her one final kiss.  

Jocelyn and Dave still stood there after Joanna was out of sight, arms around each other, smiling down and Jim and Bones.  Bones rose and cleared his throat, saying, “Joce, is there anything you’d like me to do to clean up?”  Jim followed suit, adding, “We could go around the tables and collect empty beer bottles...this is gonna be a real pain to clean up, and I don’t want either of you to have to worry about it.”

To their surprise, Jocelyn and Dave both laughed.  “Boys,” Jocelyn said, “Dave and I are anxious to get to the shuttle port and get going on our honeymoon.  And I’m _sure_ you two are anxious to get inside.  Neither of us happy couples should do any clean up right now, as we’ve each got _much_ more important things to do tonight.”  She winked, and Jim stifled a laugh as he could practically feel the heat radiating from Bones’ cheeks.

“I’m so, so happy for you both,” Jocelyn beamed, and Dave added, “It’s been a long time coming, guys!”

“Same to you two,” Jim grinned.  Jocelyn hugged them both and they shook hands with Dave, and then the two were on their way and Jim and Bones were alone in the empty yard full of empty tables and twinkling fairy lights.  

“So,” Jim eyed Bones, standing awkwardly next to him with his hands in his pockets.

“So.  Should we...go inside?” Bones turned to face him.

“Nah. Too far to walk; can’t wait,” Jim teased, moving in and placing a chaste kiss on the doctor’s lips.  Bones kissed back and moved his hands out of his pockets and around Jim’s waist, and pretty soon the kiss wasn’t very chaste at all, and Jim was sighing into it, letting Bones take control completely.

Bones flicked his tongue obscenely, sending shivers up Jim’s spine.  He brought both hands up and knit his fingers in Jim’s hair, and then kissed him ever harder, taking Jim’s bottom lip between his teeth.  It was total sensory overload; Jim had not been expecting Bones to take control like this.  Jim broke away and gasped, “Okay.  We can go inside now.”  He had intended it to sound jovial, nonchalant; it came off sounding pretty desperate.  He didn’t really care at that moment, though.

Bones heated gaze met his own, and he licked his lips, nodding.  “Lets go inside, Jim.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet little transitional chapter. (Prepare yourselves for the next one -- if I can work up the courage to post it, that is O.O). Only 3 chapters left after this!!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, get up on the bed, Jim,” McCoy said, extending both hands and hoisting Jim up and on top of him.  “We...well, I’d say we haven’t got all night, but in fact, we _do_ have all night, and I intend for us to make the most of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a few notes before you read this one.
> 
> 1\. This is very NSFW, so if that's not your thing, best to skip this one. The plot will still make sense if you skip this chapter entirely, I promise. 
> 
> 2\. If you do read this, please know that it has taken me the longest to write out of any of the chapters, because I have a huge mental block about writing smut. I'm not going to promise that it will be good, because honestly, all of my knowledge of this sort of thing comes from reading other fics (which I've read tons of, but still). I'm not an expert. But I promise lots of fluffy feels :)
> 
> Proceed at your own risk... ;)
> 
> Oh, and 3. I'm not sure if there will be one more chapter after this or two more, but we're getting veeeery close to the end!

It was a wonder how they made it all the way to the back door with their clothes still on.  They were acting so desperate, the both of them, like horny teenagers.  Once inside, clothes were shed in an excited haste, driven by an insane need to be as close as possible.  Every layer felt like an unnecessary barrier between them.  Between desperate open-mouthed kisses, they somehow managed to kick their shoes off at the door, and their socks were lost somewhere down the hall as they made their way into the old study-turned-guestroom.  

Jim tore off his suit jacket, shirt, tie, belt, and pants in approximately 0.5 seconds, tossing them aside but keeping his boxers on, for now.  McCoy discarded his jacket, but before he could take anything else off, Jim had shoved him down on to the bed, and was kneeling down on the floor in front of him to remove his belt.  

McCoy threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling, almost unable to believe this was actually happening.  All the courage he had seemed to possess earlier had suddenly dissipated.  He cleared his throat and muttered, “Uh, Jim?”

“Mmm?”  Jim responded, distracted.  He slipped the belt out of its loops and then set to work unbuttoning McCoy’s pants, taking the zipper between his teeth and, _oh God_ , tugging it down in one swift motion that almost made McCoy forget what he was saying.

“Jim,” he pressed on, “I know you know this, but...it’s been a long time.  I hope...I hope I can keep up.”

Jim started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” McCoy asked, worried he had done or said something wrong.

“...I haven’t slept with anyone in months,” Jim choked out, doubling over with laughter.  

Bones started laughing too.  “Dammit, Jim, I knew you hadn’t been staying out as much as you used to, but I had no idea...why?”

“I…” Jim couldn’t stop laughing, and it wasn’t even that funny.  McCoy wondered if perhaps Jim was as nervous as he was, and if he was using the laughter as a cover up.  It was working for McCoy -- their shared laughter released the tension, and he knew that if he wasn’t shaking from laughter, he’d be shaking all the same.  

Jim took a breath to compose himself, and grinned, voice cracking.  “...I guess...because of you.”

McCoy felt warmer suddenly, and was overcome once again by the knowledge that Jim was in love with him.  Jim.  In love.   _With him_.  It was overwhelming to realize that all these months, it wasn’t just McCoy being stupid.  There was something real, honest, and genuine between them, and it had all been leading up to this moment.  All these months, dancing around each other, pretending to ignore their obvious attraction.  And now he was finally here, alone, with this beautiful boy kneeling in front of him, ocean-eyes blown wide and cheeks flushed, lips gorgeously swollen from kissing.

“Well, get up on the bed, Jim,” McCoy said, extending both hands and hoisting Jim up and on top of him.  “We...well, I’d say we haven’t got all night, but in fact, we _do_ have all night, and I intend for us to make the most of it.”

Jim settled comfortably atop his lap, placing a hand on the bed on either side of McCoy’s head and grinning cockily down at him.  McCoy just lay back, arms sprawled out above his head, comfortable and pliant.  Jim inched down his legs slowly, tugging his his pants off in the process and then tossing them aside.  Then he slid back up, aligning their bodies perfectly and making McCoy gasp.  He was perfectly aware of how much less fabric was between them now, although it was still too much.

Then Jim took his sweet time undoing McCoy’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt, dipping his head down after undoing each button to press a kiss to the new inch of skin revealed to him.  By the time he got to the last button, McCoy was getting irritated and how long it was taking, and he growled, “I know I said we had all night, but do keep in mind that I’m coming out of a year and a half long bout of celibacy, and I’m a very impatient person.”

“Oh, I know you are,” Jim responded, dipping his head once more and flicking his tongue along the skin just above the waistband of McCoy’s underwear.  This made him fist his hands in the bedding and let out an obscene moan.  Jim smirked and ran his tongue up the center of McCoy’s stomach.

“Fuck you, Jim,” McCoy choked out, taking it upon himself to slide his arms out of his button down and tossing it aside.  His breath halted as Jim went lower, lower….

“Thought that’s what we were getting around to….” Jim mumbled against his skin.

McCoy didn’t have it in him to laugh at that, or to form anything resembling words for that matter.  They needed less talking, more of….

Jim hooked his thumbs into the waistband of McCoy’s briefs, and pulled them down in one swift motion.  He thought it would feel strange, to be fully hard and exposed in front of another man, but this was _Jim_ , and he felt completely comfortable, if not a little jittery.

Jim sat up and took a sharp breath, studying the doctor’s body.  McCoy knew he wasn’t much to look at, but the heat in Jim’s eyes flattered him.  Jim reached out a hand and brushed his thumb against McCoy’s hip bone, trailed his hand down to his inner thigh, and back up.  They locked eyes.

“You’re...really gorgeous,” Jim breathed.

“You’re one to talk,” McCoy whispered in response, taking in Jim’s expanse of tan musculature and wishing he would ditch his own boxers already.

Jim seemed to read his mind, standing for a moment to discard the garment.  McCoy couldn’t tear his eyes away as Jim slowly slid the soft fabric down his hips, thighs, and then let them fall to the floor.  McCoy let out a low whistle.  He’d seen Jim naked before, obviously, but this was the first time he’d been _allowed_ to look.  Jim was gorgeously hard, and it made him shiver to think that he was responsible for that.

“Get back over here,” McCoy said, scooting up the bed closer to the headboard and making himself comfortable on the pile of pillows.  His legs were spread out in an involuntary invitation for Jim to settle between them.

“Gladly,” Jim scrambled back onto the bed, up to the headboard to kiss McCoy.  Jim kissed recklessly, desperately, like he was going to die tomorrow and this was the last kiss he’d ever have.  Finally, he pulled away and asked the question McCoy had been starting to think he’d never ask.

“Can I touch you now?”

 _“Please,”_   he groaned in response.  

Jim locked their lips together again and didn’t stop the languid  movements of his mouth for even a heartbeat, but he brought his arm down to his side, reached a hand into the space between their two bodies -- he had to lift his hips a bit to make room -- and took McCoy’s shaft in a firm grip.  They both moaned in unison, having to break the kiss for just a moment.  

Then Jim started moving his hand, painfully slow, up and down.  He started brushing his thumb against the head after each upward movement, spreading precum along the shaft.  

 _“Fuuuck,”_   McCoy groaned.  Jim was still trying to kiss him, but it was too much to concentrate on all at once.  He gave Jim one last long, slow, open mouthed kiss, and then guided Jim’s head to the crook of his neck, where Jim settled contentedly and carried on with his ministrations.  

“Bones,” he murmured into the skin of McCoy’s shoulder.  “ _Bones._  You feel so good.  Can I...hang on, I need to….”

McCoy almost protested when Jim removed his hand, but then he realised what Jim had in mind.  Jim took his own cock in his hand and positioned it so that it was against McCoy’s.  He took both of their shafts together and continued stroking them, up and down, faster and faster.  This was certainly something McCoy had never experienced before, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why not.

“Jim, _fuck_ ,” he choked out as Jim quickened his pace.  He felt heat building in his stomach, and he honestly wasn’t sure how much stamina he had in him tonight.  He wanted to pace himself.  As much as it pained him to do so, he whispered, “Jim, stop.  Stop.”  

Jim halted his actions immediately and met McCoy’s eyes with confusion.  “Sorry, did I…?”

“No,” McCoy cut him off.  “That was...insanely good.  I just…want to make sure I don’t...I mean, I don’t...want this to be over too soon.”

“Oh,” Jim nodded in understanding, looking relieved.  He rolled off of McCoy and settled into the space next to him on the bed.  Propping himself up on one elbow, he spoke hesitantly, “So, do you want to…?”

“Yeah,” McCoy nodded.  “I do.”

“Do you want me to be the one to…”

“To fuck me?” McCoy asked bluntly, and they both laughed.  “Yeah, I do.  I’d be happy to do it some other time soon, but if you don’t mind for tonight...that sounds pretty perfect.”

“‘Course I don’t mind,” Jim chuckled, and nuzzled back into the crook of McCoy’s neck.  “Bones, I _want_  to fuck you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, okay then.  Do you have anything?”

“I have lube, yeah.  Somewhere in my luggage over in the corner.”

Of course Jim had lube.  McCoy got up and bent over the pile of luggage, rummaging around for a moment before finding the small bottle.  He could feel Jim’s eyes on him all the while.  

He lay back down and placed the small bottle in Jim’s hand.  Jim clambered down to the other end of the bed, coming to settle cross-legged between McCoy’s spread legs.  “Here,” Jim muttered quietly, taking McCoy’s legs one at a time and guiding them so that his knees were bent.  In an effort to make things easier for Jim, McCoy brought both knees in as close to his chest as they would go, wrapping an arm around each one to hold his legs in place.

Jim squirted a bit of the cool, clear liquid into his open palm, while McCoy  watched in fascination.  Jim prepped the index and middle fingers of his right hand with lube, and McCoy inhaled sharply, steadying himself.  

“You sure this is okay?” Jim inquired.

“Yeah, get to it, Jim,” McCoy huffed out impatiently.

Jim complied, taking his two fingers and tentatively pressing against the outside of McCoy’s hole.   _Fuck_ , that was cold.

Jim massaged tiny circles for a moment, before pressing one fingertip just inside.  He kept looking up to meet McCoy’s eyes for reassurance.  McCoy just kept nodding, hoping he would pick up the pace sometime during the current millennium.

One fingertip turned into two, and soon Jim was thrusting ever so slowly in and out of McCoy’s body, prepping him.  “Is that good?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, Jim,” McCoy groaned, “Faster  though, maybe.  Just a bit.”  

Jim picked up his pace, fucking his long fingers in and out of McCoy.  Deeper on every thrust.  After a little while, McCoy shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable on the bed, just as Jim thrust both fingers particularly far into him.  This new angle made Jim brush against a certain spot that made McCoy drop his hands to his sides and let out a string of obscenities.

“Holy fucking _hell_ , Jim.  Okay, stop.  I’m ready.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  Now, _please_ , Jim.”  He didn’t want to resort to begging, but Jim sure was taking his sweet time with all of this, and he had been ready to come for what felt like hours.

Jim sat up on his knees and picked up the bottle of lube again, squirting more into his palm and prepping his own dick.  “Bones, I...you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Me too, kid.”  McCoy felt his heart melt.  “But no more talking.  I need...I just need to feel you, now.”

Jim nodded and spread his body out against the length of McCoy’s.  He kissed him again, long and slow and sweet this time, while he took his own cock and guided the tip of it to meet McCoy’s hole.  The contact made McCoy gasp.  Jim pressed the head in ever so slightly, and then swiftly thrusted his hips so that he was fully engulfed in McCoy’s body.

 _“Bones,”_ Jim breathed, settling for a moment to get his bearings.

“Move, Jim, _please_.”

And Jim did.  Slow, at first, and then they found a rhythm that worked for them both, and they sped up.  Hip bones clanking together, desperate thrusts, hands _everywhere._  Jim alternated between kissing his mouth, his neck, his jaw.  Even biting the skin of his shoulder, moaning into it.  McCoy tangled his fingers in Jim’s hair, then moved his hands down to grip firmly on either side of Jim’s hips.  There was not enough of Jim to satisfy the urge he had to touch every inch of him, to get lost in every contour and every crevice.  He was utterly absorbed in Jim.

Jim’s thrusts filled him up and left him breathless, speechless, overwhelmed.  Jim was hitting his prostate again and and again and again and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and -- _fuuuck._  He came abruptly, all over Jim’s smooth stomach.  Jim kissed him through the last throes of his orgasm, until he was limp and pliant, utterly fucked.

Jim slowed his movements, but kept thrusting until he came a moment later with a sudden gasp of _“Bones!”_ , and then collapsed onto McCoy’s torso.  Both breathing too heavy to speak, they lay there for a good five minutes before either of them broke the silence.   

“I love you,” McCoy spoke finally.  There was really nothing else to say, after that.  If he’d had any doubts before about how much he loved this beautiful boy, they were gone now.

“Love you more, Bones,” Jim huffed out, still in a post orgasmic stupor.  To reinforce his point, he let his head fall to McCoy’s chest and pressed a single kiss over his heart.  

A few more moments passed, and then Jim got up and announced that he was going to take a shower.

“I want you to come meet me in there in…” he glanced at the clock dramatically, “...ten minutes, so that we can begin round two.”

McCoy rolled his eyes and buried his face in a pillow, grateful for the fact that Jim couldn’t see his ridiculously giddy grin.  Jim Kirk was the best thing that had ever happened to him.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seemingly insane aviophobic doctor and a battered and bruised Iowa farm boy had found each other, and they made themselves a home among the stars.

The following morning, Bones was up early, which Jim could remember happening...never.  Jim raised his head off the pillow slightly and peered out the open bedroom door, where he could hear a ruckus coming from the kitchen.  He stretched and rose, pulling on boxers and a crumpled t-shirt -- probably one that belonged to Bones -- from the floor.  He sauntered sleepily down the hall to find Bones, who was wearing only his boxers, banging around the kitchen with frying pans and utensils, cracking eggs into a bowl and humming merrily as he worked.

“Someone’s happy,” Jim observed groggily, smiling all squinty-eyed and coming over to sit at a barstool at the center island of Jocelyn’s kitchen.  He leaned forward, resting his arms on the countertop.  Bones didn’t turn to face him, but shot a glance over his shoulder and gave Jim his trademark eye roll.  Jim took advantage of his view; Bones, standing there with his back to him in his cotton underwear, all broad shoulders and tan expanse of skin. Spatula in hand.  He looked like a page out of some _porn for women_ calendar.  Domestic, in a super sexy way.  

“Hmm, wonder why…” Bones grinned back at him, actually _grinned_ , not snarky or sarcastic but genuine, full, happy.

“Couldn’t be because of me, could it?”

“Nah...it’s probably because last night, I found out that this really great guy who I like a lot, likes me too...and he makes me really happy, and I figure I must make him happy, which feels really good….”

“Funny, because the same thing happened to me last night, too.”

“Odd coincidence, that.”

“And the guy wasn’t half bad in bed, either.”

“Wow, another coincidence...the guy I slept with was pretty fantastic as well.”

Jim couldn’t resist getting up and walking over to stand behind Bones at the kitchen counter, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“How are your achy old bones, Bones?  I think I distinctly remember the sentence ‘dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a contortionist’ being spoken at some point last night.”

“You gave me a run for my money, but I think we both discovered that I’m still pretty spry when I want to be, right?” Bones set down the spatula and turned around in the embrace, throwing his arms over Jim’s shoulders and pressing a long kiss to his lips.

“Definitely,” Jim answered into the doctor’s mouth, and then gave up on continuing their banter and relinquished himself to the pure joy of lips and tongues and breathy sounds, and stubble brushing against his jaw and the taste of coffee in Bones’ mouth.  

“The eggs are...gonna burn…”  Bones mumbled into the kiss, not sounding like he really cared.  Jim pushed him off, turning him around to face the counter again and giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t want all that hard work to go to waste...I’m starving, and I declare no more makeout sessions until there’s a homecooked Georgia style breakfast on the table.”  He poured himself some coffee and sat back down, but not before shouting “And put something decent on; cooking in your underwear is just unsanitary!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” McCoy spat back, tending to the eggs and then setting to work on some batter for pancakes, the smile never leaving his face.

\--

With Jocelyn and Dave away on their honeymoon and Joanna staying with her Grandmother, there wasn’t much reason for them to stick around Georgia any longer.  So they booked  a shuttle back to San Fransisco for that afternoon, both eager and nervous to get back to campus and announce their relationship to all their friends.

They held hands on the flight, which was beginning to feel more natural to Jim.  Bones’ hands were bigger than his; callused, strong.  Jim mapped the lines of Bones’ palm with his thumb and thought, stupidly, that it was like a road map leading him home.  These hands had taken care of him, fixed him up, made him feel good, and they could, they _would_ , for many years to come.

“Are you sad to be leaving home?  Sad you didn’t get to spend more time with Joanna?” Jim asked.

“No,” Bones responded earnestly, looking out the shuttle window.  “I mean, I’m never going to feel like I’ve gotten enough time with Joanna after one of our visits; that’s just a fact, just part of the custody arrangement.  But no, I’m not sad to be leaving.  That house in Georgia isn’t my home anymore.”

“Then where is your home? The Academy?  San Francisco?”

“For now, yes.  Probably somewhere in deep space, before long.”  He turned to meet Jim’s eyes.  “Wherever you are, I guess.  Is that a stupid thing to say?”

“No,” Jim laughed.  “Is it stupid for me to say I feel the same way about you?”

“Yes,” Bones rolled his eyes.  “It is stupid.  The whole thing is stupid, if you ask me.  Falling in love is stupid, and falling in love again after a failed marriage is _extremely_ stupid.”

Jim tried not to look crestfallen, and Bones laughed.  “I think we’re pretty far beyond the point of not doing stupid things.  Enlisting in Starfleet with a severe fear of flying? Stupid.  Enlisting in Starfleet just to prove a point? Stupid.  Stupid works for us.  We make stupid decisions, sort out details later.”

“Well, that’s how _I’ve_ been going about life for the last twenty-two years.  So I’m glad you’ve jumped on the band wagon,” Jim grinned.

\--

The shuttle landed and they were reaquainted with their luggage.  “Where to?” Bones asked, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

“I say we drop our stuff off at the dorm, and then round up the gang for drinks at the pub.  I think the, uh, sooner we make the announcement, the less awkward it’s gonna be.  Rumor has it people have been making bets about when and if we’d ever get together, who’s gonna make the first move, and all that….”

Bones placed a hand to his temple, looking somewhat distressed.  “I know you’re right...I mean, we’ve been flirting in front of them for like, six months.  We do sort of owe them an explanation.  But, oh God….”

“What is it?”

“Gaila is going to be _out of her mind_ excited.  We aren’t going to be able to contain her.”

Jim laughed.  “We can try...or...well, yeah, you’re right, we’re not going to be able to contain her.  But c’mon, we have to do this.”

Bones grumpily complied.

\--

An hour or so later, a small group of their friends assembled at the Lion Pub in their usual corner booth.  Gaila, Hikaru, and a few other co-workers and classmates all huddled around, sipping their drinks and looking expectantly at Jim and Bones.

“So, as you’ve probably all guessed, this is a little bit more than just a welcome-home gathering for Bones and I.  We’ve, uh, got something to tell you all.”

“They totally fucked?”  Hikaru half-whispered, and was greeted with a ripple of muffled laughter and hisses of _“Shh, Hikaru, don’t.”_

“Actually,” Bones glanced sideways at Jim, who smirked and nodded, “Yeah, we did.”

“We totally did!” Jim interjected excitedly.

Silence.  Then Gaila _squealed_ , absolutely over the moon, and launched into a series of questions.  “When?!  Where?!  Who made the first move?!!!”

A few friends exclaimed “Pay up!” while others grumbled and reached into their pockets.  There were giggles and claps on the back and exclamations of “About time!”

“So...I gotta ask,” Hikaru leaned across the booth to be heard over the commotion.  “Is this just, like, casual, or are you two actually a couple?”

“We’re working out the details.  But I think it’s more than casual.  I’m...in it for something more than sex.”  Jim answered.

A collective _“Aww!”_

“I’m definitely in it for something more,” Bones agreed.  “So, for all intents and purposes, I believe we’re an official couple.”

Jim had to look down and take a swig from his beer to hide the stupid smile from his face.

Gaila looked ready to pass out from excitement.  Jim knew she would comm Bones later that evening and beg for all the details, and that Bones would be occupied with their conversation all night.  Hmmph.  He supposed the memories of the previous night’s activities would have to hold him for a while.

They ate and drank and relished in the love of their group of friends.  Even those who masked it with crude comments and wolf whistles just really, truly cared about Jim and Bones and wanted them to be happy.  For months, everyone had known how happy they would make each other, and they had finally figured it out for themselves.  They faced no judgement, just genuine and unadulterated happiness from those who knew them.

They stayed at the pub until past nightfall.  Bones was eager to leave, if his hand tracing small patterns on Jim’s thigh was any indication.  He started lightly writing words with his index finger -- _God_ , Jim wanted nothing more than for Bones to write the whole alphabet all over his body -- and Jim made out the words “Let’s go home.”  

Jim cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket off the back of the booth.  “Well, we’d better head out,” he said, to a new chorus of wolf-whistles.  Jim rose and extended a hand to Bones, who graciously took it and stood to bid their friends goodbye.  

Gaila launched herself out of the booth and gave them each a crushing hug.  “Tell me when the wedding is!” she demanded.

Hand in hand, they exited the bar and were greeted by cool spring air and the smell of flowers blooming on the trees that lined the sidewalk.  

“That went well,” Jim spoke.

“It did,” Bones agreed.  “When Gaila comms roughly two seconds after we get back to the dorm room, though, I’m not going to answer.”

“No?”

“No.  I’ve got other plans for tonight.”  He let go of Jim’s hand and snaked his arm up and under Jim’s jacket, around his waist.   

“Is that so?” Jim muttered, leaning into the crook of Bones’ neck as they walked and breathing hot against his collarbone.  

Too impatient to wait until they got home, Bones groaned and slipped his arm out from under Jim’s jacket, took Jim firmly by the shoulders, and shoved him up against a streetlamp between the pub and the bus stop.  He placed a hand on either side of Jim’s face, whispering “C’mere, darlin’.”  Jim complied easily, slinging his arms over the doctor’s shoulders and tilting his head back as Bones covered Jim’s mouth with his own.

“Never gonna get used to this,” Bones mumbled between desperate, demanding kisses.  “The idea that we can just _do this_ , anywhere, any time we want.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Jim commanded.

“It’s so weird,” Bones went on, pressing his lips to the corner of of Jim’s mouth and fluttering eyelashes across his cheek.  “I just, I thought about doing this so much, but I never thought we actually would.”

“Bones, shut _up_.” Jim groaned, bringing his hands down and clenching his fists in the hem of Bones’ flannel shirt, tugging it up a little to reveal an inch of smooth skin.

“Okay, shutting up,” Bones gave in, flicking his tongue against Jim’s bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

They missed the first bus.  And the second.  It was extremely late when they made it back to the dorm, but neither of them were in any hurry to get to sleep.

\--   

And so life carried on much the same as it always had.  Spring break was over too fast and they returned to long days of classes and homework, with Jim working at the pub and Bones working in the clinic, and long nights of talking and drinking and playful banter.  They were still best friends, as they always had been, just with more making out and more sex.   _Lots_ more sex.  

But as Jim had said before and would say many times again, usually to reassure Bones that he wouldn’t stray, he wasn’t just in it for the sex.  They did eventually stop making out long enough to lay out some ground rules, and agreed that they both wanted a long term, committed, monogamous relationship.       

They talked about marriage a few times over the years, and even kids once or twice.  Sometimes Jim would see a happy couple walking down the street with rings on their fingers, pushing a stroller through a park in Pacific Heights or something, and he would feel a deep yearning for that life (Jim Kirk yearning for married life -- things certainly had changed).  A few times, he thought maybe he had Bones persuaded.  But they always came to the same conclusion -- that the institution of marriage was problematic and unnecessary (Bones’ words), and that they would soon be stationed on ships in space, which wouldn’t be a good environment to raise children in (also Bones’ words, but Jim agreed with them).  

“I’m not sayin’ never, Jim,” Bones always said.  “Just not now.  It doesn’t make sense.  Maybe, if our service with Starfleet ends before we’re too old -- before I’m too old, at least -- we can reconsider.”

Jim also knew that a big reason Bones was so hesitant to settle down and start a family was the very real possibility that they could be stationed on different ships -- Jim was trying to pull all kinds of strings with the higher-ups of Starfleet, but this fate was ultimately out of their control.  They would just have to wait until graduation passed to find out.

But Jim was certainly content without marriage.  In the end, he agreed that they didn’t need a certificate.  They just needed each others company, each other’s love.  The times that Bones would cook breakfast for him, or kiss him awake in the mornings, or patch him up when he got hurt in his combat classes, were all he needed.  In return, Jim gave Bones stability and happiness and tried to be a light in the doctor’s long, stressful days.

So they carried on their schooling, each term blurring together and time moving much too quickly for either of their liking, months turing into years, just trying to enjoy their time together and not think too hard about what it would like to be stationed on separate ships.  They were waiting as patiently as they could to hear word of where they would be stationed, but Jim often felt like he was holding his breath and would not be able to let it out until he heard one way or the other.

\--

_I am getting too old for this_ , McCoy thought as he sat among a sea of red-clad cadets, watching his stupid, _stupid_ boyfriend walk down the steps of the cathedral style hall to face a council who would decide if he had violated the ethical code of conduct by tricking the system of the _Kobayashi Maru_ , which he most definitely had.  They were so close to graduation, but if Jim didn’t stop making terrible decisions, he might not be stationed on a ship at all, let alone a good one.  

What kind of fucking idiot has so much pride that he needs to hack the system of an unbeatable test, just so that he can say he won?  The fucking idiot he had been in love with for the last three years, that’s who.  McCoy sighed and placed a weary hand to his temple.

McCoy watched Jim and that pointy-eared bastard hash it out in front of the council, sinking lower and lower in his seat and experiencing so much second hand embarrassment for Jim.  This was going to be the big gossip at the clinic tomorrow, and he didn’t want to have to keep defending Jim and his crazy schemes to everyone.  But he would, ‘cause he loved the stupid kid.  He sighed again.

Then the pointy-eared bastard brought up Jim’s father and McCoy sat up a little straighter, anger searing through his veins.  How dare he? Didn’t he know how much that one comment would affect Jim, and didn’t he know that Bones would be left picking up the broken pieces later?   _Fucking Hell._

Then there was an interruption, some sort of commotion sending whispers rippling through the crowd, and when one of the council members announced that they had received a distress call from vulcan, it quickly became apparent that McCoy had a lot more to worry about than dealing with gossip at the clinic or Jim’s daddy issues.

\--

They stood together in the campus shipyard, discreetly holding each other’s hands while they waited in a crowd of cadets for their names to be called off the list announcing which ships they would be assigned to. McCoy supposed he should have considered the possibility that some emergency would make this day come sooner than graduation, but he was in an internal state of panic, not prepared at all.  

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jim was mumbling into his ear.  “We’ll get the same ship.  I’ve called in so many favors, asked so many people to ensure it.  It’s gonna happen.  We’ll get the same ship.”

McCoy felt so sick at the possibility that they would not be called to the same ship that he didn’t feel a shred of excitement or accomplishment when he heard his own name assigned to the _Enterprise_ , a dream he and Jim had always shared.  And then….

“They didn’t call my name,” Jim spoke.   _Oh, no.  No no no._  Jim rushed off to ask a commander about it, and McCoy followed, heart sinking further and further as the man told Jim that he was on academic suspension.  He had to stop himself from screaming _“Dammit, Jim!  This is all your fucking fault!  Losing the_ Kobayashi Maru _would have been a thousand times better than losing me!”_  The only thing stopping him from doing so was the crushed expression on Jim’s face.

It took all the effort McCoy could muster to set his seething anger aside and offer Jim words of comfort.  “Jim, the board’ll rule in your favor...most likely.”  Jim seemed unable to look at him, unable to speak.  “Look Jim,” McCoy continued, “I gotta go.”  Words he never, ever wanted Jim to hear from him.  He tried to say more without words, struggling to remain professional with the eyes of a dozens of Starfleet commanders upon them.   _I don’t want to do this.  I gotta go, but I’m not leaving you.  I’m so sorry_.  Jim looked close to tears.  

This was not the time nor place for a passionate goodbye kiss or even a hug.  So Jim turned and shook his hand firmly, and it killed McCoy, this awful formality when he wanted to wrap the kid up in his arms and tell him it would all be okay.  

“Yeah, yeah.  You go.  Be safe.” Jim told him.  

McCoy turned his back on Jim, and this moment was among the hardest of his life.  Right up there with turning his back on Joanna as he walked to the car after signing the divorce papers at Jocelyn’s house.  

Hot tears stung at the corner of McCoy’s eyes and his throat started to swell up.  He hoped that no one on the ship would need medical care for a few hours, because he was not in the best state.   _Wait a minute._  He stopped in his tracks and thought, _Dammit, I’m a doctor!  What am I doing?_

He almost laughed.  He was pretty sure this was fool proof, but he wouldn’t let himself feel total relief until he was absolutely sure it would work.  He shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned on his heel, rushing back over to Jim.   

He grabbed Jim’s arm, startling him, and hissed “come with me.”   _Anywhere I go you go_ , he thought, unable to believe that he had almost walked away, had almost broken this unspoken vow they had between them.

He dragged Jim into the small medical station at the shipyard.  “What are you doing?!” Jim demanded.

“I’m doing you a favor,” McCoy explained, almost manically.  His hands were practically moving of their own accord, fumbling through the assortment of vials on one of the supply carts.  “Couldn’t just leave you there, looking all pathetic.  Take a seat.”

There, perfect.  He found the vial he was looking for and loaded a hypo.  “I’m gonna give you a vaccine against viral infection from the Lavaran mud flees.”  

The incident with the _Kobayashi Maru_ had almost separated them, and it was all Jim’s fault, so McCoy didn’t feel bad as he roughly stabbed Jim in the neck, and he might have gleaned a tiny bit of pleasure as he explained that Jim would lose vision in his left eye, acquire a bad headache, and, well, he’d leave out the possible side effects for now.  Whatever Jim got, he deserved it.

He unceremoniously dragged the drugged-up Jim through the shipyard and to the loading zone for the shuttle headed to the _Enterprise_.  Not cleared for duty, the commander said, blah blah blah.  Good thing McCoy had Starfleet’s medical code memorized to a T.

“The medical code states that the treatment and transport of a patient is to be determined at the discretion of his attending physician. Which is _me_.  So I am taking Mr. Kirk aboard, or would _you_ like to explain to Captain Pike why the _Enterprise_ warped into a crisis without one of its senior medical officers?”

And they made it aboard.  They were headed for the _Enterprise_.  McCoy wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.  He threw his head back and let out a long breath.  “You’ll thank me later, darlin’,” he assured Jim, shaking and pale beside him.

“But I hate you right now,” Jim groaned, and slumped over in his seat, resting his sweaty head on McCoy’s shoulder.

“Ohh, Jim,” he exhaled, taking Jim’s trembling hand, “I love you, I love you, I love you.  We made it.”  And then he was laughing.  He started laughing hysterically, and the cadets around them were starting to stare.  The two of them were quite a sight.  

McCoy was acting insane, out of his mind with the exhilaration of what he had just done, and Jim looked terrible.  It sort of reminded him of the shuttle ride on which they first met, actually.  Regardless of what anyone thought of them, they stuck together for better or worse, and this was all that mattered.  

This shuttle ride was the beginning of a huge new chapter in their journey together.  Their time on the _Enterprise_ would change everything for good, but not as much as they had changed each other already.  Bones became the most loyal, dependable and hardworking doctor that Starfleet had ever seen, and Jim became the bravest and most beloved captain in all of history – but they would always remember the way they were on the day they first met.  A seemingly insane aviophobic doctor and a battered and bruised Iowa farm boy had found each other, and they made themselves a home among the stars.   _Anywhere I go you go_ , the poem said, and so it was.  For decades to come, they stuck side by side, getting lost in disease and danger, darkness and silence, growing old together and living the fullest lives imaginable.  All the while, anywhere one went, the other would follow – to the stars and back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. This story started with a shuttle ride, and it ends with one. Just filling in the blanks between the two. And the rest is history ;)
> 
> This story has taken me so long to complete, and I have nothing but gratitude for those of you who have stuck with me through huge hiatuses and continued to support me no matter what! Anyone who has commented or given kudos to this fic, reblogged it on tumblr, or read it at all has my eternal love. And thanks, of course, to my awesome beta, Amanda!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, because you never know when I might start a new writing project! And if you enjoyed this fic, stop by my ask and tell me, because nothing makes my day more. www.knitthecitybones.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you bunches to my best friend and beta: http://naughtofimport.tumblr.com/
> 
> And to my go-to person for ST canon questions: http://torchwood1701.tumblr.com/
> 
> And, if you'd like to follow my tag for updates and ramblings about the story, you can find it here: http://knitthecitybones.tumblr.com/tagged/re:+I+carry+your+heart+with+me
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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